


satiate.

by MalevolentReverie



Series: superfluity. [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is 16, Blood Relatives Incest, Complete, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Flashbacks, High School, I know, Incest, Infidelity, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mating, Mild Blood, Minor Rey/Han, Mother/Son Incest, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oedipal Issues, Painful Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Premature Ejaculation, REY IS A BETA, REY IS HIS BIOLOGICAL MOTHER, Rey Isn’t Kylo’s Mom in Canon, Rey is 32, Rough Sex, SCREAMING Oedipus Complex, Suicidal Thoughts, Titty Stuff, Weird family dynamics, beta rey, mild violence, oedipus complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie
Summary: Ben has two Beta parents and thinks soft-bonding is sick. His perspective changes as a bizarre and unstoppable force of nature takes him over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the same soft-bonding concept from my friend, who is writing a fic w/the same concept!!!

“I’m tellin’ you, man—it’s the best feeling in the world.”

The first snowfall lays thick around the swings, but Ben and his group of friends don’t care. They listen closely to Poe Dameron, freshly presented Alpha, regaling them with the story of his mom jerking him off. Ben picks lint off his basketball hoodie and tries not to puke at the thought of that.

Finn laughs, shakes his head. “That’s sick, man. Soft bonding is sick. Who wants their mom…?” He pretends to puke and everyone laughs, some of them Betas, some waiting Alphas.

Poe snorts. He reeks of fresh pheromones and the confidence of a newly bloomed Alpha and everyone wants to lick his nutsack. Ben hovers back on his swing and plays with the worn bracelet he bought last vacation. Went to Aruba with mom and dad.

“Well, mom’s Omega,” Poe continues arrogantly. “She’s good at it.”

“Dude, she’s your _mom_ ,” Finn says. “That shit is sick. You’ll have two-headed babies.”

Poe glances at Ben. Ben keeps playing with his bracelet, wondering if he’ll play _Call of Duty_ when he gets home. Probably not. Mom’s gonna nag him to do the dishes or something.

“Solo?” Poe calls. “How about you?”

Ben makes a face. “What? Would I let my mom touch my dick? No, Dameron. That’s fucked up.”

That makes everyone erupt into an argument about soft bonding, because that’s all anyone talks about.

Ben gets his bike and peddles home, bored of the same tired talk. It used to be hot girls and video games and now it’s all about getting your mom to jack you off during rut. The thought is enough to turn his stomach and he quickly thinks about his girlfriend, Erin, instead. Way better. Blonde, big tits.

He drops his bike on the front lawn and jogs to the door. Dad’s car is gone. Off on another trip.

But Ben unlocks the door and smells cookies, and he knows mom is home like she always is. He turns the deadbolt and sheds his shoes and hoodie on his way to the kitchen, getting stuck in the latter.

“You goon. Pull your shirt down.”

Mom helps tug the hoodie off while Ben pulls down his white T-shirt to his hips. He grins when he’s free, towering over her as she fixes his hoodie and rolls her eyes. Her hair is braided and over her shoulder; gives her a real housewife type of look. Looks like mom, the last person he wants touching his dick.

She folds his hoodie and sets it on a chair. “Is your flavor of the week coming over today?”

“Ma—I like Erin. She’s smart.” Ben sits at the island and helps himself to a sugar cookie.

“You said that about Daisy last week.”

“Daisy’s a dumb ass and she gives rotten—”

 _Don’t say handjobs_. Ben freezes and his mother groans, turning back to her cooking. She’s getting ready for Christmas in a week.

“Just don’t make me a thirty-two year old grandmother,” she sighs. She points at him and narrows her eyes. “And don’t call women names. It’s disrespectful and rude, Ben Solo.”

He grunts. Whatever.

Mom gets busy doing mom stuff, so Ben takes the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom. He runs a hand through his black mop of hair; a hand that’s too-big on a body that feels too tall. This growing up shit sucks. Sixteen was supposed to be easy.

The second floor is empty and quiet like usual. Ben shoos his cat out of his bedroom and slips inside with his second cookie in his teeth. It’s snowing and cold outside so he might as well kill some zombies.

—————

Something feels weird when Ben wakes up the next day. Something crawls under his skin.

It’s the last day of school before winter break so he can’t take the day off. He might not see Erin again before classes start again and he’ll miss the way her hand feels rubbing his junk. And whatever.

He stretches out in his blue sheets and checks the alarm: 6:00am. Just enough time to rub one out before he has to get up and get ready.

Ben pulls open his nightstand drawer and grabs the small bottle of lube he bought in spring. He shoves his hand down his pants with all the grace of a teenage boy and tugs loose his cock, half-erect and beading clear liquid. It’s pretty much _always_ hard.

But it should help the tension when he gets off. It always does.

He dribbles lube on the tip and closes his eyes. Erin’s big tits flicker there; the way they bounce when he tickles her and the pink nipples he’s caught glimpses of underneath. He’s seen all kinds of porn and his favorite is cumming all over a big pair of tits—maybe bigger tits than Erin’s, if they exist.

Ben swallows, groaning softly. He strokes slow so he can build up his stamina but for some reason he’s on edge today and comes within a minute or two. His bed creaks incriminatingly as he thrusts into his grip, gasping, sticky cum spurting way up his chest to his chin. It’s a _lot_. Shit.

Mom can’t see, so he cleans up the mess with tissues and chucks them in the trash in his bathroom. He rubs his forehead and heaves a breath in the mirror, studying his slender frame not yet rippled with muscle the way he wants. Soon. He’s getting bigger arms right now, and he’s twice mom’s size.

Ben glances down. His dick is hard again.

“That’s… weird,” he mutters.

Weird, humiliating, uncomfortable. He’s not in the mood to jerk off again so he tries hiding it in the waistband of his boxers like he did in middle school. But it should have a rebound of like… fifteen minutes, at least. He’s not even horny. Erin’s boobs aren’t _that_ great or anything.

He gets dressed and tries to ignore it on his way downstairs. Not a topic to talk to mom about.

She’s drinking coffee at the island, magazine open in front of her. _Car and Driver_. Dad says she was a famous mechanic for NASCAR when Ben was a kid.

“You okay?” she asks, tilting her head.

She can always tell when he’s upset. It’s annoying.

Ben avoids her eyes. “Uh… I’m fine. Can we get going? I wanna get today over with.”

“Jeez, yes sir! I forgot I’m at your beck and call.” Mom rolls her eyes and keeps drinking her coffee. “Gimme a minute. I’m finishing an article about drivetrains that’s _very_ important.”

Fuck. He’s always been pretty laidback and calm, moving wherever mom and dad say they need to move, quietly obeying orders. But something hot prickles up his neck and Ben thinks for a split second that his two Beta parents made an Alpha.

“ _Now,_ Rey!” he barks, soft voice hitting a penetrating deep note.

It resonates in the cavernous kitchen. Mom stares at him over her mug and Ben tries to hide his trembling fists behind his back. Holy shit. Holy _shit_.

She leans back. Her hazel eyes are wide like she’s scared, and he hates when mom is scared, but right now he’s pretty happy with it. It collides with another part of him and Ben stalks off to ride his bike to school through the snow instead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is gonna be a really screwed up family lolol

A ride is waiting for Ben on the curb when school lets out, and that’s the worst thing _ever_.

He stops a couple feet off from the black Range Rover and squeezes his bike’s handlebars. The tinted passenger window rolls down.

Dad, eyebrows raised, hand cupping his stubbly jaw. He’s pissed. The snow on Ben’s sneakers has nothing on the glacial glare he’s getting from Han.

Ben shivers. “I rode today.”

“Pack it in the back. We need to have a chat.”

Fuck. _Fuck_ , it’s because he shouted at mom this morning. Of course he’s in trouble; shouting at your mom is the last fucking thing you’re supposed to do. He still doesn’t even know why he did it or why his skin feels like it wants to crawl off his bones.

Ben folds up his bike in the cavernous trunk. The front passenger seat is nice and warm when he hops in, but it doesn’t offer any comfort from ice storm Han.

Dad pulls away from the curb. “Your mom was crying when I came home.”

Shit. Ben runs a hand through his hair and winces. Really? Mom doesn’t cry that easy. Now he feels even worse, if that were possible.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“She said you failed _two_ chemistry tests.” Han shoots him another glare. “You’ll never get into college if you can’t get your head out of your ass, Ben. Basketball will get you the scholarship, sure, but it won’t do the coursework for you.”

The shock must show on Ben’s face because Han nods in a quick, sarcastic way. Oh. Bad grades. Didn’t mom tell him about this morning?

“No more going out on weekends,” dad continues, oblivious. “You’re staying home and studying until I see improvement. D’you want to be some hippie weirdo like your Uncle Luke?”

“No.” Ben chews his inner cheek. “I don’t.”

—————

Poe and Finn thinks it’s bullshit that Ben’s grounded, too. Poe’s too busy doing gross shit with his mom but Finn is always around to hang out and he and his girlfriend Rose are a lot of fun. Sucks.

He breaks the bad news to Erin and gets a picture of her frowning with words and crap all over it. His gaze wanders down to her cleavage, the only thing he really cares about, and he tugs on the crotch of his jeans. Maybe he can convince her to fool around in the locker rooms or something.

There’s a knock on his door before mom lets herself in. Usually she waits a second—not so much when she’s pissed off.

She leans on the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Ben gives her the same incredulous look and doesn’t budge from his bed. Whatever.

“You’re welcome,” mom snaps.

“I’m still grounded so what’s the difference?”

“You’d be in a lot more trouble if your father knew you shouted at me.” She peers over her shoulder to make sure he’s not hanging around. “Don’t raise your voice to me again or you’ll regret it.”

Anger prickles up the back of his neck. Ben grunts and keeps scrolling through Facebook, trying to ignore it. What’s he so pissed off about lately? School’s going fine, he’s on track for college and hasn’t failed a test since last month.

Mom taps her fingers on her upper arms, mouth twisted up because she’s upset, and Ben realizes a second too late that she’s gonna cry again. But she slips out of his room before he can say anything and he hears the stairs creak as she hurries down them.

He gets a weird feeling in his chest, not like he’s going to cry, but like guilt amped up and spread out. He winces and scratches his jaw and turns over to face the window. Now his room smells like that flowery mom perfume dad always brings her from a trip.

—————

“Didn’t I tell you to put sunscreen on? Jesus, Ben.”

The cold recycled air conditioning at the beach house just makes the blisters down Ben’s back feel even worse. Dad isn’t helping. He always helps in retrospect. If he finds the time.

The door opens downstairs and mom comes up with a bag over her arm, sunglasses on top of her head. She gasps and Ben thinks he’s in _more_ trouble, but she turns on Han, hissing and spitting and shoving her purse in his chest.

“Look at him!” she snaps. “You jackass—have you ever _seen_ my father?! Or your ex- _wife_?!”

“I told him to put it on, Rey; what the fuck do you want me to do?”

“Do it yourself! He’s twelve and has the complexion of a wet paper towel!”

Ben sits still on the ottoman while mom gathers his hair up on top of his head so it stops brushing his back. He shivers miserably, tired to the bone from a day spent fighting the waves and yelling to his dad from across the sand. He napped and drank beer.

Mom gently touches his back. “My poor baby. I’m so sorry.” She crouches and laughs a little, rummaging through her bag. “You won’t die, but it’s going to itch like crazy for a while. I’ll put some aloe on it then I want you to go lie down and take a nap.”

“Sorry,” Ben mutters. Han is still there so he knows better than to cry.

“Don’t be sorry. Like I said, no one’s going to die or anything.” Mom shoos dad away with a frigid glare. “Maybe. Did you have fun? See any sharks?”

“It was fun. No sharks.” Ben peers into the bag she brought with her earlier in the day. There’s a couple magazines, a bottle of aloe and sunscreen, and her cell phone. “Dad didn’t come in the water. Too busy talking to girls.”

He’s not sure why he admits to it. It’s better if mom doesn’t know, but he wants her to know. But maybe she already knows.

She shrugs it off. “I’ll come tomorrow and show you how to surf—sort of. Hard with a boogie board and I’m a couple years out of practice, but…”

Ben shivers as her aloe-dipped hands touch his back. He nods, because mom’s a lot more fun than dad, anyway, and his shoulders slouch forward. They’re here for something with Daytona. Mom wants to start working again and dad’s not happy about it. The ‘vacation’ is another argument.

But it’s nice to spend time with mom.

She massages in the aloe and brings him down the hall to his bedroom on the other side of the house. Ben watches her wander around his beige and blue vacation room, until she finds a cloth in the bathroom.

“I’ll get you up for dinner and you can shower,” mom says. She casually helps him out of his swim trunks and kicks them into the hall. “The salt water’s bad for your skin so wipe off what you can for now.”

“Can you?” Ben asks.

Mom drops the cloth on top of his head, laughing. “Why would I do that?”

“I’ll do it wrong. I do everything wrong.”

Her smile fades. Ben’s lower lip quivers and he leans forward, burying his face somewhere near her stomach. He cries and she gives in, wiping the sand off him where she can reach, and he shivers from the cold and maybe because he likes when mom touches him. She’s warm. Always smells nice.

“Girls won’t like you if you’re a mama’s boy,” she teases as she peels back the sheets. “Big red flag.”

“Girls are gross, mom. Can I watch Jerry Springer?”

“Ben, you’ve got a bad sunburn, not the Black Death. Springer is Black Death television.” She puts on cartoons and ruffles his hair. “Go to sleep. Pizza for dinner?”

He nods, yawning. “Yes please. Love you.”

Mom opens the window and says she loves him, too. Ben dozes off to the sound of the waves and the ‘cartoon’ _Inuyasha,_ which mom still doesn’t get isn’t really a cartoon.

—————

“Ben—Ben, up!”

He comes to after a nap to find mom in his bedroom, organizing and shit. Irritated, Ben hides under his sheets and growls when she tries pulling them off.

Mom grabs his shoulder. “Leia and Luke are stopping by. You need to get up and put on clothes.”

“No. Dad says they’re both nuts.”

“Not nuts—they’re just demi-humans, and you know Leia’s an Alpha, so you might want to get up.”

Mom’s always worried about impressing Uncle Luke and Aunt Leia for some reason. Who cares? They’re both crazy, especially Uncle Luke. Grandpa. Ben just calls him Uncle Luke.

Ben heaves a sigh as he sits up, and finds another message from Poe about his Omega mom jerking him off. He cringes and tosses the phone on his desk.

Mom cocks her head. “Problems with your flavor of the week, Benjamin?”

“No—Poe is soft-bonded to his mom.” Ben yawns and shrugs, scratching his jaw. “It’s gross.”

She makes the same repulsed face and nods. “Thankfully I can’t imagine anything like that. Now get your ass out of bed and put on a shirt that doesn’t smell like pot.” Mom points, eyes narrowing. “You think I don’t know these things, but I do.”

Ben blinks and tries to find an excuse but she waves him off and sweeps out of his room. Well. Shit. She really never does miss anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t en s i o n

“Did you vacuum today, Rey?”

Ben lounges on the couch watching TV while Aunt Leia does the rounds criticizing the house. Dad sits between him and Uncle Luke, who pretty much ignores how his sister rips into his daughter.

Mom is quiet for a second. “Um… yeah, I did. I dusted the mantle, too. After you mentioned it the last time. Ben was sneezing a lot so I think you were—”

“Oh. Did you?”

Aunt Leia wanders out to the living room and runs a nail across the mantle. It picks up some dust that she rubs between her fingers, raising her eyebrows like she’s shocked and mom lied to her.

She’s always done up in a pantsuit with braids, like she’s got somewhere to be that isn’t here.

Ben glances at dad. He stares ahead at the television and takes a sip of his beer, ignoring the weird look Aunt Leia gives him. It’s hard to miss. It’s _weird_.

Mom comes into the room on the other side of the mantle with a panicked look on her face. She checks for dust and her face crumbles when she sees it. For a second it seems like she might cry: her lower lip trembles and her already flimsy smile cracks.

It does something. Ben’s eyelid twitches.

“It’s not an operating room,” he drawls. “Who gives a shit if there’s dust?”

Dad nudges him _hard_ in the ribs. Uncle Luke snorts into his virgin daiquiri.

Aunt Leia raises an eyebrow. Usually when she gives that look it unsettles Ben, so he never crosses her, but mom’s already upset and he’s not fucking happy that she might cry about _dust_. He raises his eyebrows back at her and their eyes meet—and he gets the urge to jump to his feet and fucking deck her.

She glances at mom. “It seems like your _son_ has a sense of humor like his father.”

“Nope.” Ben puts a foot up on the coffee table and keeps his eyes right on hers, smiling, eyebrows raised. “All mom.”

Mom laughs nervously and invites Leia to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Ben doesn’t break eye contact until he can’t turn his head anymore. Cunt.

Dad shoots him a glare. “Are you fucking serious? Have some respect.”

“Come on, Han,” Uncle Luke says, “kid’s got a point.” He sets his glass down and huffs. “And since when do you care about respect? Didn’t respect my daughter. Or my sister.”

“Married her, didn’t I?” Dad retorts.

Ben ignores their squabble to lean back over the couch and keep an eye on mom. She’s chugging white zin like she always does when Leia visits, and it annoys him even more. He doesn’t think he likes Aunt Leia being in the house—he _knows_ he doesn’t like the way she talks to his mother.

His irritation brings him straight out to the kitchen. Aunt Leia is inspecting the pots and pans like they’re in a fucking boot camp and mom rolls her eyes when she sees Ben. She looks pretty. Sundress. He can see all the freckles on her shoulders and he can see the way her artery pulses in her neck.

Ben sits next to her and snatches her wine glass before she can stop him. She hisses and laughs and tries taking it back but he holds her back with one arm and chugs the whole thing before Leia turns around to look.

Mom coughs. Ben meets his Aunt’s stare as he sets the glass down and goes to pour it full again. It makes his skin prickle, kind of like when he’s playing basketball and he’s shoving someone out of his way. But better than touching some sweaty ass dude from another school.

He pushes the glass toward mom by the stem. “Sorry. I’m an alcoholic.”

“ _Ben_!” Mom hisses.

Leia kind of walks around the island and stands across from them with her hands on it. Ben’s ears ring.

“Like father like son,” she says.

The alcohol burns his mouth, but something else does, too. He’s not cool with how close she is to his mom and he almost growls because he just wants to jump over the island and hit her _really hard_.

“Leia. Come on.”

Dad stands in the doorway. He motions and she casts Ben a snotty look before following him out, probably to go on the walk they always do. The door opens and shuts and he can hear Uncle Luke snoring on the couch. His skin hurts like he’s gotta get out of it.

Mom stands and goes to dump out the wine, then rolls her eyes and drinks it anyway. Ben follows.

“You can’t drink,” she says, avoiding his eyes. “Especially in front of her. I mean, you know I don’t care about sips at Christmas or a little weed, but you can’t down half a bottle of my zin.”

Her voice wavers. It’s not something he remembers picking up on—ever.

He leans over the counter and shrugs. “What’s she gonna do about it?”

“Call CPS.” Mom glances over her shoulder and snorts into her glass. “She’d like to kill you, I think. Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not being fair.”

“You give her way too much slack for being such a complete bitch. Tell her you like the house being dirty—I learned in bio germs are good for our immune systems, y’know. Keeps ‘em strong.”

It makes mom laugh and she shakes her head, and Ben smiles, pleased she’s not on the verge of tears.

Especially because of Aunt fucking Leia.

—————

One time she babysits him because mom wants to go out with her friends. One time.

But mom’s never away and Ben cries the whole time. He watches for her through the window, sniffling to himself like the shitty spoiled five year old he is, and Aunt Leia sits downstairs reading a magazine.

Dad comes home early. He hears Aunt Leia laugh, then feet on the stairs. Good. Dad’s here.

But they walk past his bedroom and down the hall to mom and dad’s room, where Ben spent most of the day crying and smelling her pillow. She has a _smell._ A mom smell. Perfume and warmth; he can see her smile and feel her fingers in his hair.

He hops out of bed and follows. The door shuts.

Ben hesitates and wanders closer to listen, curious to know what dad is doing with Aunt Leia. They murmur too low for him to make out what’s happening so he waits until he hears the bed move and no more words, then gently cracks the door.

She’s on his lap and he’s lying down and they’re naked. Ben blinks and squints at the weird spectacle, a little grossed out by their naked bodies, but he doesn’t move away from the door. Aunt Leia moves and they both make even weirder sounds.

It’s gross. He scowls and wanders downstairs to wait for his mom.

Leia leaves when the sun is down, stepping into heels and not looking at Ben. He watches her walk down the path to the driveway and get in her black car.

“What’s wrong, bud?”

He looks up. Dad’s there, in a shirt with no sleeves, and he’s sweaty and gross.

Ben hops up and scurries to the bedroom to investigate. Dad doesn’t follow, but he hears the TV turn on and the couch creak lightly.

It’s quiet. Ben nudges the door open and circles the room, trying to figure out what happened. The bed still looks neat like when mom makes it in the morning, and he hears the washer thumping in the basement. Why’s dad sweaty?

He crawls up on the bed and scowls at the foreign smell tainting the way mommy smells. It’s gross. Chemical and harsh, not soft and sweet.

Ben slides back off the bed and clenches his jaw. He bites down hard, trying not to get mad, because he doesn’t _like_ getting mad.

But he rips off the comforter and the sheets and the pillow and throws them out the window. It’s hard because they’re heavy and dad catches him halfway through, but he screams and kicks and manages to chuck it all outside where it belongs.

“Han—Jesus Christ, put him down!”

Mommy grabs Ben away from dad, and she smells _right._ He sighs and buries his face in her warm neck while she argues with dad: she smells a little weird, like her grape drink for adults, but that’s okay.

“He threw the fucking sheets out!” Dad shouts. “He could’ve fallen out the window!”

“Like you were paying attention!”

Mom rubs Ben’s back and he settles closer, sniffling. He’s not sure he likes sharing her. Dad makes her smell bad, too, and he lets Aunt Leia in the bedroom—and she smells terrible.

So Ben sniffles and turns his head, glaring at Han, and mumbles what he knows he shouldn’t.

“It smells bad,” he whimpers. Mommy’s pulse thrums beneath his lips. “Like Aunt _Leia_.”

She stiffens.

They leave the house for a few days and stay with Uncle Luke, and mommy cries a lot, but they go home anyway. But she holds Ben a lot and lets him eat ice cream for breakfast, and she falls asleep with her grape drink and he takes a sip.

He settles into her embrace where they’re watching _The Land Before Time_ , curled under dark blankets, dad asleep upstairs. Ben likes Littlefoot. He’d go anywhere to find his mommy, too.

—————

There’s shit to do being grounded, so Ben helps mom repot the plants in the kitchen and out on the porch. She yaps about fertilizing and it might be the wine, but he can’t stop laughing. _Fertilizing._

“You’re so gross,” she says.

She’s crouched on the porch, gloveless and dirty up to her elbows. She never wears gloves when she does yard work. Dad says she lives for dirt.

Ben keeps laughing in that weird way where his shoulders move with it, tears in his eyes. It’s not that funny but—it must be the zin. Weed does the same thing when Poe starts up about _moist_ and shit like that, but it’s not so funny now that he’s letting his mom touch his dick.

He coughs, wincing. “Sorry. Doesn’t it burn the roots? My teacher said it burns the roots.”

“Uh… too much nitrogen burns the roots.” Mom peers up at him under her worn red baseball cap, squinting. Ben squints back at her and bursts out laughing all over again. “Oh my god, get a grip. You’re such a lightweight.”

“We were having a standoff, ma. Like in _Parks and Rec_ when Leslie drinks with Ron’s mom and almost dies.” He licks inside his cheek and snorts. “It’s really funny. You should watch it.”

Mom rolls her eyes. She’s changed out of her ‘impress Aunt Leia’ clothes into old capris and a baggy denim shirt, sleeves rolled haphazardly up to the elbows. She pushes down on the soil in her snake plant, the only one still out on the porch. It’s coming in. It won’t survive another round of snow.

She stands and shivers, dusting off her hands. “Good, all done. Looks good, right?”

“Looks like a plant, yup.”

“Wise ass.” Mom rubs her nose with her upper arm and nods toward the door. “Can you put this on the floor near the mantle? It’ll look nice there, I think.”

“I think it’ll look like a plant.”

This time she wipes off a dirty hand on the front of his new pullover and he hisses and stumbles back. She does it again, quickly wiping her weird flimsy mom hands on his chest until he grabs her wrists.

She laughs about it. “Relax! When did I even buy this for you?”

Anger skitters up the back of his neck. It’s cold, but he’s burning hot.

“It’s from Erin!” Ben snaps.

“Oh. Whoops.” Mom cringes and tries pulling her hands away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wreck your flavor of the week present. I’ll clean it.”

His grip tightens. The more she pulls, the more he wants to squeeze. It throbs in his head and makes his vision blurry and she pulls again and he yanks her closer. It’s cold, but he can’t feel it.

Mom’s jaw shifts. She doesn’t look happy.

“Let go,” she says in a soft, low tone. “Right now.”

Ben gives a harder squeeze, and she winces, and it satisfies him for some reason. He lets her go and silently picks up her heavy ass plant.

He puts it near the sliding glass door in the kitchen. It looks fucking stupid near the mantle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: violence, blood

Poe calls around nine that night bawling his eyes out. Ben stares at the ceiling and tosses a stress ball up and down while his friend rambles.

“It’s so fucked up, man.” Poe sniffles and cries again. “She’s my _mom_. Now that it’s over I want to crawl in a hole and fucking die—and we have to go to therapy together! It’s so fucked. I’m so fucking sick.”

The rut is over and now the reality is sinking in. All the parents and their kids have to go to therapy to deal with how shitty and gross they feel after spending a week getting each other off. It’s fucked up. Ben is glad he’ll never have to deal with it with his mom.

He shrugs. “You’ll be fine. Everyone feels better after therapy, and it’s not like you banged her.”

“I know, but I _wanted_ to. I tried twice.” Poe is hyperventilating, choking on his sobs. “I have to move out. I can’t stay here. Is there any girl you know—anyone who’s easy?”

“Karen Gillespie would fuck a tire iron, but you’ll have to wrap it _good_.”

Poe laughs. It’s a relief with how upset he sounds.

“You can’t come over, right? Grounded?”

“Yeah, grounded.” Ben frowns and pauses in tossing the ball, casting a glance to his bedroom door. “But mom might let you spend the night. I told off Aunt Leia earlier and drank some zin. Fucking hilarious.”

“Dude. That’s Alpha shit.”

Ben hops off his bed and skates in his socks to his door. He flings it open, smirking to himself as he steps into the hallway. It’s quiet. Mom’s watching TV downstairs and dad isn’t back from his date with Leia. Mom might be tipsy enough to let Poe visit.

“It was pretty badass,” Ben says, taking the stairs two at a time. “Aunt Leia’s such a cunt. She kept staring at me but like, no one can be mean to my mom like that, y’know? Except me.”

Poe snorts, sniffling. “That’s _definitely_ Alpha shit.”

Ben pads around looking for his mother and finds her in the living room watching a soap opera. She’s on a bottle of tequila now, legs crossed, hogging the whole couch with her big green blanket.

He leans over the back, raising his eyebrows. “Ma. Poe’s crying about his mom. Can he come over?”

Rey blinks, opens her mouth, then cringes and shuts it. Ben nods and leans over further, impatient for her to just agree already. He slowly rolls over the back of the couch and sits on her legs, and she swears and snaps at him to cut it out.

He sits at the other end and pulls her legs in his lap. She glowers over the rim of her tequila glass and Ben gives her his best grin, because she usually falls for it.

“That… soft bonding thing?” mom clarifies.

“Yeah. It’s over and now he’s gotta go to therapy because he wants to bang his mom.” Ben shrugs. “Or something. He’s upset. He might run away, or sleep with Karen Gillespie.”

“Jesus—isn’t that Francine’s kid? She told me she had syphilis. How does a sixteen year old get syphilis?”

“Because she sleeps with literally anyone who asks. She’s hot. She slept with the band teacher.”

Mom spits out her drink and Ben reports back that Karen is a no-go. Poe groans.

“Okay, fine,” mom manages. “Just don’t be too loud and don’t tell me about any more teenage girls sleeping with teachers. I think I’m supposed to call the cops about shit like that.”

“Does she know any divorced moms who might sleep with me?” Poe asks. “Will _she_ —”

Ben almost throws the phone. Anger flares in the back of his head like when Aunt Leia was being nasty to mom. It’s the same feeling he gets in a basketball game; same urge to _win,_ but there’s nothing to win.

“Don’t fucking say it,” Ben snaps. “I’ll kick your ass, Dameron.”

Mom draws away and stumbles to her feet. The tequila is down the front of her pajama top, dripping down from her chin, but she just laughs and shakes her head. She takes another sip before shuffling off toward the stairs, grabbing whatever she can to stay upright. Poe keeps yapping but Ben hangs up.

He follows Rey and texts Poe that he can come over whenever. Mom usually isn’t stumbling drunk.

“Did Poe proposition you for me?” she calls, already halfway upstairs. “That kid is a terror. I bet Tanya Hendricks would jump on it if he showed up there. Her husband is too busy boinking the new babysitter to give a shit.”

She laughs at that and shakes her head. Ben follows, then looked up to her side to help her the rest of the way. Her weight shifts and leans into his chest when they get to the landing but she keeps laughing.

“Pot meet kettle, right? Not like _my_ husband isn’t out fucking someone else right now.”

It’s weird to hear her say it out loud, even if they both know it’s the truth. Ben winces and puts an arm around her waist to help her down to the bedroom. Hopefully she goes to sleep or she really might end up letting Poe bang her, and then he’d have to kill Poe.

It’s an easy thought, one that surprises Ben. He wouldn’t just be mad. He’d have to _kill_ Poe.

Mom makes it to the bedroom and her laughing turns into crying instead. She’s really drunk. Ben’s never seen her really drunk before, and it’s kind of confusing and upsetting. He helps her sit on the bed and she flops back and just _cries_.

He goes to the dresser to find her clothes, praying he won’t find something gross, but it’s just clothes. There’s some bras and panties but he ignores them and finds a matching pajama set that isn’t covered in tequila. He chucks it on the bed and turns back to close the drawer, but hesitates.

One of the bras is bright red and he realizes he recognizes it: Erin has the same one. He’s stuck his hand in it plenty of times.

His gaze wanders along the mess and he sees a red thong that brings more mixed feelings. Moms aren’t even allowed to wear thongs. Why does his mom have one? She doesn’t wear it. She’s like a paper bag; she’s plain and sexless and just _mom_.

Ben slams the drawer shut, shuddering. Gross.

He turns around and sees she has the new top on, but hasn’t gotten the pants on yet. His eyes travel up long legs riddled with stretch marks to a black thong just like the one in her drawer. His blood boils.

“Mom! Come on!” Ben covers his eyes and stumbles blindly for the door. “Seriously?!”

“Please, you came out of me and I’ve seen _you_ naked a thousand times! I can’t tell you how many times you’d peel off your fucking clothes and run around the house naked with your dick out.”

“I’m not five, mom!”

“You did it five years ago!”

It’s gross and weird, and Ben manages to flee the room before he accidentally sees anything else. He goes to his own bedroom and slams the door shut.

—————

Poe is all red-faced and sniffly when he shows up, but he’s not crying anymore. Shara comes to the door with him and tries saying goodbye but he hurries inside and ignores her. Ben shrugs feebly. He feels bad shutting the door on her. She looks kind of crushed.

He sees the Jose Cuervo in the living room and makes a beeline for it. “Thank fuck. Is your mom home?”

“Yeah she’s home, and she’ll be fucking pissed if you drink her Jose.”

Poe rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle by the neck. He walks out to the kitchen like he owns the place and picks out a glass. Ben grits his teeth and watches from the other side of the island. He usually jumps at the chance to drink and hang out with Poe.

He slides a glass to Ben, shuddering. “I’m so fucked, man. I can barely look at her.”

Ben realizes pretty quick that he wants Poe out of the house. He ignores it and takes a sip of the tequila instead. It burns like hell down his throat.

“Just go to therapy. You’ll be fine.” He scratches his neck and nods toward the stairs. “I’ve got the new DLC for _Call of Duty_. Wanna make pizza rolls and go?”

“There’s no coming back from this. There’s just not.”

Jesus Christ. Ben rolls his eyes and sits at the island to nurse his drink and listen to Poe bitch.

He paces, trembling and running a hand through his curly black hair. He’s upset, yeah, but everyone gets upset after. That’s what the _therapy_ is for.

Poe rubs his face. “I mean, it felt good. It felt better than sex. I… I touched her, too, and I don’t think I was supposed to.” He covers his mouth and stares out the window into the backyard. “I kept thinking about—like _hurting_ my dad. Like killing him.”

That drops the temperature in the room.

Ben swallows. He’s never heard of that before. Hopefully Poe isn’t stupid enough… but Poe can be pretty stupid when he wants to be.

“You should go to the hospital, man,” Ben says, trying not to make it sound like a big deal. “You don’t want to do something you’re gonna regret. I like your dad, too. I’ll be super pissed if you kill him.”

Poe keeps pacing and shaking his head and cries again, and Ben feels a little panicked. Something is really wrong. This isn’t normal at all.

He gets up to find mom, but she’s drunk, so she can’t do much. He shouldn’t drive when his breath smells like alcohol, so the only other thing he can do is call Shara. Ben hesitates in the doorway to the kitchen. Maybe he should call 911.

“I can smell your mom, Ben.”

It’s sad, not gloating or upset, but it makes Ben’s blood boil. He slowly turns to see Poe leaning over the island with his head in his hands.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “She’s ovulating. I can _smell_ it, and she’s not even an Omega. I feel like a shark—I feel like some kind of fucking predator.” He cries harder and slips away from the island, eyes wild and red. “I can smell Leia, too. But there’s male Alpha here, too. Faint, but I can smell it, and all I want to do is find him and kick his ass.”

“Shut up about my mom. I’m fucking serious, Poe.”

“Is she here? Is she asleep?” He rubs his neck and shudders again, closing his eyes. “She smells so nice. I just want to see her. Just for a minute.”

The stairs creak before Ben can make good on his threat and throttle Poe. He turns and sees mom there, squinting at them and yawning. Her pajama bottoms hang low enough for him to see the hem of her panties and it makes his throat tighten.

She frowns. “Everything okay? I heard a _lot_ of crying.” Mom yawns again and shuffles toward them. “Hey Poe—you feeling okay, honey? Your mom called and she’s so upset—”

In a split second it descends into chaos.

Poe charges across the room looking just like a shark with his pupils dilated, teeth bared. Ben grabs his arm to stop him and is shoved off, and he tries telling Poe to cut it out, but he’s heading straight for Rey anyway. Her eyes widen and she tries talking sense into him but there’s none of that left in Poe’s head.

Ben seizes him in a headlock and flips him over to the floor, hard, maybe too hard. He’s wrestled Poe plenty of times and knows his tells but it feels like fighting a fucking bear, complete with snarling and snapping jaws. He’s fucking wacked. He needs a psych ward.

“Poe—Poe, _stop_!” Ben shouts. He rolls and pins him but Poe breaks free and makes a swing for his face.

“You’re wasting it! You’re wasting it!”

Poe kicks and screams and grabs Ben by the throat, then he’s squeezing, and Ben can’t breathe. He stares into his friend’s empty black eyes and his ears ring and mom screaming.

“Get… out… of my… way,” Poe hisses.

Water dumps on Poe’s face and he lets go. He rolls over and Ben falls back, coughing and scrambling to pin him again. Poe looks up at mom where she stands in the kitchen doorframe, brandishing her empty bottle of zin with a terrified look on her face.

“Poe,” she says, voice unsteady, “it’s okay, honey. I know you don’t feel well.”

He gets to his feet. Mom takes a step back and tries saying his name again, a little louder, a little more terrified, but Poe staggers toward her anyway.

Ben spits out blood and feels the anger spike and flood across his head, wiping out his empathy and ability to give a shit about killing his friend. He’s going to kill him. He can feel it down in his bones and it’s a good burning urge—he’s going to fucking kill Poe.

He tackles Poe to the floor again, bumping into the chairs around the island. Mom is on the phone with the police and hiding against the fridge, which is where Ben wants her.

He snarls back at Poe, rolling and pinning him to the floor with a forearm across his throat. Then Ben leans back and starts _whaling_ on him, punching him across the cheeks until blood sprays. Poe manages to grab Ben’s fist and twist him over again, but Ben seizes Poe by the throat and just squeezes.

His eyes bug. His face turns red. Ben knows he might kill him but he keeps going, because he hates the way Poe smells and no one gets away with scaring his mom. He’s going to crush Poe’s throat.

“Ben! Ben, _stop_!”

Through the pulse of blood in his ears, he hears mom. His grip slackens and falls away, and he shoves Poe off him. He rolls on his back and splutters and coughs.

Mom touches Ben’s shoulder. She smells nice.

“They’ll be here soon,” she says. “Shara is on her way, too.” Mom brushes his hair back from his face and he lazily looks up at her. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

“I’m fine.” Ben spits out more blood and closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. She smells like vanilla and candy and he wants to take a bite. “You smell nice, mom. Did you take a shower?”

She frowns and shakes her head. Ben frowns back and shrugs, muscles rippling with excitement and energy he’s never felt before. It’s overwhelming. He wants to grab Poe and fucking thrash him again.

He takes a few shallow breaths—and faints.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it BEGINS

The fever starts when Ben wakes up in his bed an hour after fainting.

He’s got a splitting headache to boot, one that makes his vision blur and his ears ring. He groans and rolls over to press his face into the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut and willing it away. His whole body aches—Poe plays fucking football and it showed.

Voices carry from down the hall, mom arguing with dad about why he was out all night and him giving her shit for letting Poe come over. Ben swallows and opens one eye. Han needs to shut his fucking mouth.

Slowly, Ben sits up in bed clutching his head. Blood surges to his ears and his bones and he feels prickling heat from head to toe, like a sunburn. He winces and staggers to his feet, swaying and bumping into his dresser along the way, then rips his door open.

The hallway breaks into two and converges again. He groans and stumbles toward his parents’ bedroom, following that weird sweet smell mom is giving off and a weird tingle in the back of his head. He has to see her. Not sure why, but he has to.

“Why would you let that fucking kid come here?!” dad shouts. He never does that. “You know he’s in that fucked up soft bonding shit!”

Mom snorts. “I’m not an _Omega_ , Han. Why were you out all night with your ex-wife?! Maybe if you were home you could’ve stopped Poe before he and Ben almost killed each other!”

No—he couldn’t have. Ben would’ve throttled Poe either way, and he still would’ve enjoyed it.

He runs his hand along the wall to keep from tipping over and shoves open the bedroom door.

The smell gets so strong Ben almost collapses. He takes a sharp breath through his mouth and _feels_ it, soft like a blanket, warm and cloying, and an uncontrollable urge to consume the source takes him over. He takes another wobbling step and rubs his forearm across his head.

“Mama,” he mumbles. “I don’t feel good.”

His eyes roam blindly and find her already hurrying toward him, eyebrows knitted with concern. She’s in short shorts and a strappy shirt, purple, that shimmer when she moves. The smell gets stronger and Ben takes deeper breaths, huffing it like an addict.

“Now he’s fucking sick!” mom snaps. She touches his arm and jerks her hand back. “Jesus, Ben. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Dad scowls. “He’s not going to the ER for a fever, Rey. Let him sweat it out.”

Ben swallows. His throat is dry and he’s fucking _irritated_. Mom’s palms are nice and cool and soft.

She touches his arm again and he shudders. It jolts straight down like ice through his hot skin and to his utter horror, he feels his cock stiffen.

Ben jerks away this time, hitting the wall hard. No, no, no. He’s just sick. His body is doing weird shit.

“I’m fine,” he rasps. “I’ll come back if I have a stroke or something.”

“Ben, I think you should go to the hospital.” Mom reaches up and cups his cheek, frowning. “You’re so hot, honey. I’m worried.”

His body reacts again, and he tries thinking about Erin instead. Big tits, blonde hair, long legs. Big tits, blonde hair, long legs. Not mom. This is just a puberty thing or a being sick thing. Thank god his jeans hide it.

“I’m okay.” Ben awkwardly yanks her hand away by the wrist and pushes it back to her side. “It’s probably mono. Everyone has it now.”

“Quit fucking around with girls and you won’t have a problem,” Han snaps.

Red floods Ben’s vision. Literal red—everything turns blood red, and he charges for dad, muscles aching to kick someone else’s ass. He smells sour and rotted and just like Aunt Leia, and it’s making the rest of the room smell horrible, and he’s fucking sick of dad only ever criticizing him.

Mom catches Ben by the chest, both hands pressed there, and pushes him back towards the door. Her eyes are wide and she shakes her head quickly.

Dad takes a threatening step closer. “What? You want to fight me, Ben?”

“God, get a _grip_ , Han!” mom hisses. “He’s obviously sick—you going to fight a sick teenager? Get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.”

Ben does want to fight him. He bares his teeth and tries pushing mom aside but she pushes him out the door into the hallway, and closes the door behind them. The bad smell cuts off.

She pats his cheek, bordering on slaps. “Are you crazy?! Did Poe knock something loose?!” She shakes her head and walks past, motioning for Ben to follow. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital—maybe you have a concussion.”

“No. I’m not going to the hospital.”

He’s not. He doesn’t need to.

Mom turns. She looks small, even though she’s five seven and Erin is five two. Her shoulders slope and Ben can see her sternum, and her tits, and her nipples through the shirt, and it makes his blood burn hotter. He swallows a lump in his throat and rubs the back of his neck.

Mom looks like she might cry. “Please. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’m fine. I just need… I need to sleep.”

“You’ve been so irritable lately. Is everything okay?” She wriggles her mouth, but tears well up in her eyes anyway. “I just want to know what’s wrong. I won’t be mad.”

Her crying just makes everything worse. Ben rubs his forehead and reaches out an arm, trembling, and mom wanders closer to hug him.

It’s her—she’s what smells so good, and he buries his face in her hair, wrapping his arms around her. She’s warm and soft and his arms drift to her waist to pull her body flush against his. His head spins. He’s drunk on it, and pushes his hard on against her belly.

Mom stiffens. She doesn’t move for a minute, then she tries pulling away, but Ben holds her firm.

“Okay—just tell me if anything changes,” she says. She pulls again.

He squeezes, inhaling near her neck, and gets a weird urge to bite her. It tingles in his jaw and he grits his teeth to make the sensation go away—but he really wants to _bite_ her. It’s enough to make him let go and mutter ‘I’m fine’ again.

Ben slams his bedroom door shut and stumbles back to the bed, peeling off his clothes along the way until he’s completely naked and shivering. He crawls under the covers and paws around for his phone to find the pictures Erin sent. His neck hurts. His dick hurts and he wants to ignore it but he doesn’t want blue balls to go with the raging fever.

He fumbles for the lube in the drawer but can’t find it, so he spits in his palm instead. Ben closes his eyes and kicks off the sheets, trying to think of Erin’s perfume and her blue eyes watching him in the car. Her hands are a lot softer than his. Her mouth feels the best but she only does that when they’re high.

Maybe he needs to fuck her. He hasn’t done that yet—afraid of knocking someone up. Sometimes he’ll pull her in his lap in the car or roll over on top of her in bed and _pretend_ he’s fucking her, and it’s kind of satisfying having her pinned underneath him.

Ben tries calling her. It’s late, like eleven at night, and she doesn’t pick up. He throws the phone and grabs a pillow, turning on his stomach, and grabs another to bite and squeeze.

It feels as desperate and weird as he figured, but it feels good, too. He pants into the pillow to keep his voice down while he thrusts against it, reaching down to pull it tighter against his body so it’s more like a girl and less like a pillow. Ben groans and clenches his teeth on the other pillow, shuddering and moving faster. It’s hard to stay quiet.

“Ben? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Fuck. It should make his dick go limp, but his muscles coil and saliva floods his mouth. The pillows smell like him; all musty teenage boy, but mom’s voice makes him smell whatever perfume she’s wearing.

He slows, nodding and catching his breath. “I’m—I’m fine. Seriously.” Her big eyes and the hem of her panties under her sweatpants flashes. Thin thighs, striped with purple. Her smiling at him under her hat and the feeling of her brushing his hair back from his face. Fuck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away.” Mom pauses. Her voice is strained. “You’re just not a little kid anymore, you know?”

Ben rolls off the pillow, panting hard and stroking his cock. His eyes flicker wildly across the ceiling. He needs to smell that again. It smells so fucking good.

“Can you c’mere?” he asks, almost whimpering. He pulls his covers up and turns on his side, blood roaring in his ears. He _needs_ to smell it.

Mom hesitates, but his bedroom door opens. She peers in with her eyes half closed like she’s afraid she’ll see something bad, then she turns and shuts the door behind her. The soft sweet smell follows her right to the edge of the bed.

Ben’s brain goes totally fucking haywire. He watches her sit next to him and almost grabs her, intent on pinning her and humping her like he does to Erin. He stares. Mom looks at her hands, oblivious to him slowly stroking his dick again. Her skin glows in the dark and he really wants to _bite_ it.

“I’m sorry.” She wipes her eyes and laughs. “I mean, I know you’re not a little kid anymore. I don’t want you to think I’m mad or anything.”

He licks his lips. His hand moves faster but not fast enough to make her suspicious. Maybe.

“You smell good,” he croaks. His eyelids flutter and he swallows a groan. “So good.”

Mom laughs again, but it’s nervous. Her gaze flicked to his shoulder and down his arm, and her eyes widen a little when she realizes what he’s doing.

He seizes her wrist before she can get up. Mom startles and yanks but Ben refuses to let go, watching her expression change and pressing her palm to his cheek. His cock twitches from the touch and he squeezes her hand when he comes, breath hitching in the quiet. He thrusts his hips into his grip and feels a weird bump near the base that throbs with blood.

Mom rips her hand away. Ben gropes for her but she stumbles to her feet and covers her mouth. He’s breathless and shivering, relieved from the release, but he doesn’t want her to go anywhere.

“Mama,” he mumbles. He rubs his thumb on the swollen spot, moaning. “C’mere. You smell good.”

She rushes out of the room without closing the door. Ben hears her telling dad they need to take him to the hospital, and he closes his eyes, still massaging the new swollen spot on his cock. It feels amazing—he feels another orgasm building up, then it washes over him and makes his eyes roll back. More cum. It’s a lot of fucking cum.

“I think he’s an Alpha, Han. He needs—”

“That’s impossible. Just go to sleep and let him sit there and sweat it out.”

They lapse into silence. Ben feels the fever slowly breaking, and the swollen spot shrinking, and cold revulsion comes in to fill the empty spots.

Mom walks past the door with her pillow to sleep downstairs. She doesn’t glance his way, but shuts his bedroom door before she goes. Her bare feet patter down the steps to the first floor.

Ben rolls over on his back and stares at the ceiling. Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more incest porn
> 
> added back the noncon tag because this is definitely noncon

Things are painfully normal the next day. The weird stuff ebbs back— _painful_.

Ben gets up with the worst muscles pains of his life, groaning and wincing as he gets out of bed. The fever is gone but his hands are still sticky from his cum.

Now he has to go down and see mom. He’s not sure how he’s going to manage it after fucking jerking off with her sitting on the bed. Jesus Christ. Jesus. What the fuck is his problem? Did Poe make him sick?

Ben shuffles to the shower. Warm water helps his aching muscles and when he gets out, he frowns, surprised by how… weird his arms look. Bigger? Impossible overnight. Maybe he’s just never noticed; never paid attention.

Of course he has. He’s sixteen.

It’s harder to ignore his dick. Hard, but not impossible. He washes his face and pretends not to notice the swelling at the base or how it looks thicker than normal, like it’s full of blood. Jerking off is nauseating. Not right after last night.

There’s a text from Erin but he ignores it, donning an old Zeppelin shirt and sweatpants to go downstairs. He should see mom and apologize. Make things normal. He feels bad, terrible for doing it, sick to his stomach, disgusted—

Or he _should_.

The same sweet scent draws him through the house to where she’s sitting on the couch. Her laptop’s open and she’s Googling something, but it’s hard to make out from far away. Ben walks closer with a lump in his throat and a creeping sensation up his spine. Why does she smell so good?

Mom looks back and slaps the laptop shut. She smiles, guarded, and has to collect herself.

“Hey… Ben.” She curls into the opposite corner of the couch and wraps in her blanket. “Sleep okay?”

It’s annoying. It makes him mad seeing her curling up in a ball like she doesn’t want him to touch her. What’s the big fucking deal? Poe does it.

Ben hesitates, confused by his own thoughts. Of course it’s a big deal. It’s fucking gross.

Mom lifts her chin toward the other end of the couch. “Want breakfast? You can sit and I’ll go make something.” Then she jumps up like someone lit a fire under her ass. She keeps the blanket around her shoulders. “Go ahead and sit and I’ll be back.”

He sits. Slowly.

Something tugs in his brain—he should go help, or make it himself. She should sit. She looks tired and cold and she should just sit and relax.

She should sit. She should sit.

Ben rubs his face and shudders at the force of the thought, repeating in his head until he can’t stand it. He jerks to his feet and walks too fast out to the kitchen. Mom jumps and brandishes a spatula for a second before hiding it behind her back.

Weirder thoughts keep growing. It’s hard to ignore, just like the way she _smells._ Poe said she’s ovulating. That’s so fucking hot. She’s fertile, like a field he can sow, or an ocean he can spit in; he can do whatever the fuck he wants to her—

“You feel okay?”

Ben unclenches his jaw. Mom’s watching warily, hidden under her blanket and pajamas that cover her arms and legs. Her hair is down over her shoulder and looks soft enough to bury his face in. He wants to touch her. A hug, because she’s mom, and she’s always soft and warm, not because he wants to pin her to the floor and fuck her.

He shudders and backs away. “I’m not feeling great. I’ll just go sit on the couch.” Brain screams. Don’t fucking leave her. “Or, uh—let me make something. You can go sit.”

“I don’t mind. It’s okay.”

“Really. You should sit.”

“Ben, _seriously_ , just give me ten minutes—”

The tug floods his brain and he slams a fist on the island, resisting the urge to grab mom and throw her on the couch. She startles and holds out the spatula again. It trembles.

Ben swallows hard. He squeezes his eyes shut and blinks them open. If she doesn’t sit he’s going to lose his fucking shit.

“You should go sit,” he grates out. He stares at her and she stares back. “ _Please_.”

Mom nods once and sets down the spatula, obviously tense. “Okay. Sorry, honey. Thank you.”

He watches her until she physically sits on the couch, and the tugging fades. Finally. Fucking bitch.

Cooking isn’t really Ben’s forte, but he can make something simple. His brain spins as he picks out eggs and bread and green pepper for an omelet, and skips bacon, because it’s greasy and unhealthy, and it won’t be good for the baby.

“Fuck,” he spits. He rubs his face with both hands and takes a couple sharp breaths. “Fucking—son of a bitch.”

It’s like trying to beat a song out of his head. Ben slaps his temple a couple times and forces his thoughts back to Erin, hands shaking as he gets breakfast ready. He washes his hands twice and doesn’t know why he has the compulsion, but that same nagging thought whispers ‘ _it’s not good for the baby._ ’

He hurries at first but slows down. He’s possessed. Poe gave him his fucking disease.

Ben looks over his shoulder five times to make sure mom hasn’t moved. He tries not to the sixth time but fear creeps up his spine—what if she moved? What if she’s somewhere he can’t see? What if Poe comes back and brings his awful fucking smell?

Nauseous, Ben ignores his own breakfast and brings mom hers. She beams and thanks him and he pretends he doesn’t care but it makes his heart swell. Good. She’s sitting, she’s eating, and she’s happy.

“I’ll do the dishes later,” she calls.

“I’ll do them.”

She’s got to sit and relax. Ben rinses off the pan and dumps his breakfast, sweating from his forehead, pulse throbbing. God she smells good. Fresh and tempting and she’ll smell like him when he’s done with her, so she has to relax and eat, or it’s harder for her to get pregnant.

He opens the kitchen window and takes a deep breath. It’s a little relief from the thoughts.

When the dishes are in the washer he goes straight upstairs to his bedroom and shuts the door. He paces, running his hands through his hair and trying to think about literally anything except getting his mother pregnant. Anything. Dead kittens. Nuclear war. Anything is better than that.

His skin burns down his neck into his jaw. He grinds his teeth and feels like he’s gotta _bite_ something. Something. Someone.

Ben caves, crawling into bed and dragging a pillow under his hips. He grabs another one and just bites it like a fucking vampire, squeezing and pushing the other pillow up to meet his hips. It doesn’t feel great but it works and lets off some of the pressure. Feels good rolling his hips against something.

He groans and pants into the pillow until he’s almost suffocating. His thoughts wander straight back to mom but it’s easier to pretend it’s not real when he’s lightheaded. They wander along the same track: straight up fucking her and coming in her until she’s sleepy and satisfied and watching a little piece of him change her body in a big way.

Getting a girl pregnant is his worst nightmare but he comes anyway, thoughts lingering on touching her belly when she’s pregnant. Fucking her when she’s pregnant—that’d be so hot.

Ben slackens and closes his eyes, panting as the orgasm tapers away. His boxers are smeared with cum and he’s shaking from how _good_ it felt. He’s ready for a nap. His dick is all swollen at the base and he’s tired and ready for a nap.

“Poe,” Ben mutters. He gropes on his nightstand for his phone and calls Poe. He did this shit.

No answer. He lazily drops his phone to the floor, eyes fluttering shut. A quick nap is fine. He can forget all the weird shit happening and pretend he doesn’t know the reason why.

No—he can’t sleep. She’s downstairs alone.

Ben hauls his ass out of bed, staggering and clutching his head, and changes his pants. He makes his way back downstairs and is relieved to find mom still watching TV. She’s on the phone, laughing, and on Google again: this time he sees she’s looking up ‘Alpha teenagers.’

He gets to the couch and sits down right next to her, thighs touching. Mom closes her laptop and sets it on the coffee table, smiling tightly as Ben rests his cheek on her shoulder. She smells really nice. Maybe he can take a bite.

“Yeah, Han is working. I’m home with Ben.” She laughs again. “Seriously, Derek, get a grip.”

Who the fuck is Derek?

Ben scowls and tilts his head to smell her neck for something that’s not sweet. Nothing. She smells great there, ripe, fertile, ready for him.

Mom shifts away and he follows. He puts an arm around her shoulders and takes deeper breaths, and idly reaches for his crotch to palm his cock through his pants. She’ll want to fuck him when she feels how big it is. All she has to do is relax.

A sharp elbow shoves him away.

She’s glaring at him, phone to the crook of her neck. Ben licks his lips and comes right back to her side and this time she doesn’t resist. She shrinks away a little but he doesn’t give a shit. He hugs her around her thin shoulders and licks her neck, kissing and _he’s kissing his mom_.

Ben whimpers. She tastes so good. His brain feels hot and hungry and he can’t resist the urge, even if it makes him sick, and he again fondles his cock through his pants. He kisses her more forcefully and drags the blanket over their laps with a trembling hand.

Mom nudges him. She lowers her voice.

“Stop kissing me.”

Fuck. He buries his face in her neck, hurriedly reaching a hand down his pants. She doesn’t hang up the phone and keeps talking while Ben moans softly and works his cock from root to tip. Fuck it feels good. Fuck she’s warm. And soft. Fuck he wants to fuck her.

He tries reaching around her shoulder to touch a tit but she swats his hand away. Ben settles for squeezing her upper arm and breathing on her neck, trying to be quiet, because this is a fragile thing and she could bolt at any second. Better to ease her in if she’s nervous. He doesn’t want to hurt her but if she runs he’s not letting her get away.

Dazed, muddled by hormones and taboo and something that’s been there a while, Ben takes his time to come, hoping she’ll suddenly change her mind. He kisses her ear and gets another elbow. He huffs and reaches for a tit again, and she elbows, but he ignores it and gropes her chest.

It’s smaller than Erin’s; more palmful than handful, but it’s still a tit, and he’s happy to be touching it. His breath hitches as his fingertip grazes a hard nipple, because it means she likes it and she’s turned on.

Mom gives a harder shove. It’s meant to tell him she’s done but Ben grabs her again and kisses her neck like he wants to and finds her nipple again. He strokes gently through her shirt and rolls his hips into his grasp. He’s close. He wants her to see him come so she knows he has something to offer.

“Want me to… touch you?” he whispers. “I can do it. I know how.”

Elbows seem to be a big no. He gets one to his ribs and growls but lets it go. He’s gonna come.

Mom keeps talking to the guy. “Well it’s supposed to rain this week. Don’t know how in December, but hey, stranger things have happened.”

Ben hurriedly pushes down the blanket and mom pulls it back up without looking at him. He grabs her wrist and pushes it down again, masturbating right there in the open on the couch, and his breathing quickens. He kisses her skin and teases her nipple and pretends she’s into it, too.

“Shit—” He gasps, jerking and panting against her neck, on the edge. “Can you see? Do you like it?”

“Oh, how are the kids? Getting big, right?”

Ben cups her tit and squeezes when he climaxes, biting her shoulder to keep from groaning too loud. He moves his fingers rhythmically in time with the pulses of cum from his cock, gently pinching her nipple to make sure she’s in the moment, too.

His hips stutter and stop. His hand and the blanket and his pants are covered in cum.

He sags against his mother, trying to catch his breath and letting his hand slip away from her boob. She finally shrugs him off and leaves for the kitchen, then turns suddenly and hurries upstairs. The phone is on the coffee table. It’s not even on.

Ben drowsily lies down, too tired to follow this time. He wipes his hand on his stomach and curls the blanket to hide the cum, and passes out on his side with the smell of his mother in his nose and on his mouth. They smell nice together.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE ANOTHER LOL

It’s dark when Ben wakes up alone on the couch. Someone draped a blanket over him.

His body aches again and he groans as he stretches, wincing when he feels the cum on his hand. Shit. That’s still there. That happened.

He staggers to his feet, clutching his head. The room spins and resettles and he realizes, suddenly, painfully, that he’s fucking starving. _Starving_. It gnaws and scrapes at his stomach and he forgets showering, shuffling toward the kitchen to eat before he explodes.

The kitchen is quiet, empty, and the stove reads 9:45. He slept all goddamn day—didn’t answer Erin or get through to fucking Poe. He slept on his last weekend day. Son of a bitch. He has school tomorrow.

Ben huffs and washes off his hand, then raids the fridge for random shit: pizza bites, Hot Pockets, fries, bacon, and the last bit of the green pepper from breakfast. He throws it all on the island and turns on the oven and stove. Couple more minutes.

It leaves time to think about what he did earlier. Not much processes. That’s just what demi humans do. It’s bonding. He feels closer to mom than he has in a while, and he glances toward the stairs. Maybe she’s hungry. Good thing she’s in bed. She shouldn’t be up late and she shouldn’t eat processed food.

Ben chews his inner cheek, resisting the urge to run upstairs and check on her. He puts his stuff in the oven and cooks the bacon with the green pepper in record time, which he practically inhales while he waits for the other stuff to be done.

It’s good. It satisfies the ache. He drinks two bottles of water and pauses when he goes for his third.

Mom has a bottle of gin in the shelf, where gin doesn’t belong. It’s about half full. He scowls and dumps it out down the drain, then picks through her liquor collection in the cabinet. Everything open gets dumped but he takes the wine bottles to hide from her. She can’t drink. Obviously.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Ben turns as he’s taking the food out of the oven. Mom’s there, fucking furious, face red and eyes red like she’s been crying. His heart skips a beat at the sight of her. She has more skin showing: her legs, and arms, and her collar bone. His throat gets tight and he awkwardly motions to the hodgepodge of food.

“Sorry. I woke up hungry. Do you want some?”

“Ben—why did you throw half my fucking alcohol away?!” She holds up two empty Patron bottles, eyes wide and mouth opened like she’s flummoxed. “What the fuck was this for?!”

He doesn’t say it out loud. That’s too fucked up.

“It’s just… bad for you,” he says lamely. He shrugs and pushes two pizza bites in his mouth. “Sorry.”

Mom clenches her jaw, about ready to kill. She throws away all the empty glass bottles and runs a hand through her hair, stiff and angry.

Ben keeps eating in the meantime. The hunger slowly fades away but a different type of hunger comes back to fill the space, and it’s worse than craving food.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” mom snaps. She shakes her head and worries her lower lip through her teeth. “I can’t do this. I can’t give you what you need.” She turns away and takes a shaky breath, then she’s crying, shoulders drawing in. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

He narrows his eyes, glaring at the back of her head. He’s not going anywhere. But he tries to soften his voice when he speaks, because she’s upset and he doesn’t want her upset.

“I’m okay,” he says, shrugging, chewing. His gaze drifts down her legs and back up. “You should go back to bed. You seem tired.”

“Of course I’m fucking tired! You’re—You’re—” Mom trails off.

Ben knows. He’s an Alpha.

It should be impossible with two Beta parents, but he knows it’s happening, and the longer it goes on the more comfortable he is with the idea. He stares at the back of his mother’s head, fighting the overwhelming urge to drag her back to bed if she won’t comply. It might be nice. He can hold her and lick her neck.

There’s no Omega to help and Ben knows he’s going off the rails. Maybe. Mom seems to help a lot, and things long buried have been crawling to the light. She’s _his_ mama. She’s always been _his_. It’s gotten easier to ignore as he’s gotten older and found girls to suck his dick or hump on couches before parents get home—but it’s still there like it’s always been.

Ben finishes eating and washes his hands. Mom is standing in the middle of the kitchen chewing her nails, small in the dark, not the tough Rey he grew up clinging to and aching for.

He walks up behind her, and finds the scent is waning, but he still wants her just as bad. He swallows.

Mom clears her throat. “Go take a shower and get dressed. They can help you at the hospital—there’s hormones. There’s things they can do.”

“I’m not going there.”

She cries a little more but doesn’t move. Ben steps closer and wraps his arms around her middle, squeezing tighter until her back is flush against his chest. He closes his eyes and rests his chin on the crook of her neck, nuzzling in, dancing back to memories of them cuddling on the couch.

 _Han._ Ben clenches his jaw and glares toward the front door. He got in the way before and he’ll do it again, but this time Ben’s bigger and he can drive him off. Then he and mama can spend all the time they want together, and watch movies, and when she falls asleep after drinking too much wine he can trace the scars on her belly where he changed her from the inside out.

Ben slips his hands under the front of her shirt, crossing his palms so he can fit them both on her stomach. His head spins as he gently presses his fingers into soft skin, not tight like Erin feels, and he pushes up a little to try pushing her ass into his groin.

Mom shoves him off with an elbow and storms toward the stairs. Ben follows but she whips around and takes a sharp stomp toward him, posturing, cheeks red and wet from tears.

“Get away from me!” she hisses. She drops back, trembling. “I’m not Shara Bey—I’m not doing this. Get dressed or I’m calling your father!”

He grits his teeth. She needs to lie down and relax. She needs to stop telling him what to do.

Ben looms closer. “You look tired. You should go back to bed, mom.” He narrows his eyes and flexes his hands. He wants to grab her. “Please.”

Quiet follows. Mom stares at him and doesn’t move, so he slowly approaches, bearing down on her so she’ll do what he wants. He likes when she shrinks back and he stalks her into the living room. His blood pumps hard and he grabs her from behind.

Something takes over. Ben pushes her over the arm of the couch, and shoves between her shoulder blades when she tries moving. He curls his fingers around the back of her neck and holds her there for a long minute. It’s satisfying.

His cock presses against her ass and he slowly drapes over her back, two hands on either side of her head. Mom doesn’t move. She’s pinned.

Ben doesn’t move, either. It’s nice just having her underneath him.

He reluctantly lets her up a minute later. Mom slowly straightens and it irritates him for some reason, so he quickly pins her back down. A growl rumbles in his chest, like a warning. No. Stay down. She needs to stay down and he needs to mount her from behind like this, and she better not complain.

Mounting, mounting. That’s how Poe started when the change happened. He’d do it to his girlfriend randomly in the hallway, shoving her against the locker, biting her shoulder, just holding her there. She thought it was hot until he needed more.

Ben can’t reach mom’s shoulder. Height difference. But holding her there is unbelievably hot, and he feels powerful and dominate and really fucking horny.

He’s thrusting before he knows it. It’s much better than the pillow, rubbing against her warm soft body with his draped over her back. An orgasm builds quickly and his cock swells and he pants unevenly, humping his mother at a frantic pace. The couch creaks and slides a little so he pushes harder.

An insane urge to rip down her shorts and fuck her jolts into his head but he wants her safe in bed for that. He doesn’t have time to paw down his pajama bottoms before he’s coming, _hard_ , gasping into the couch cushion and rubbing fast as he spills in his underwear again. Holy shit.

It tapers off. Ben collapses on her back and catches his weight, catching his breath and shuddering from little post-cum aftershocks. Fuck. _Fuck_.

This time he slips away from mom and doesn’t pin her back down when she gets up. His ears ring. He needs a shower and a nap but he doesn’t want to leave her alone, afraid she’ll bolt or get hurt.

“Stay here,” Ben mumbles. He rubs his face and shivers. “Gotta shower.”

Mom doesn’t say anything. She sits.

He goes up to his room and showers and changes into boxers and another old T-shirt. It’s like old times, when mom left dad for a while and they cuddled on the couch and watched movies. He’s more excited than he wants to be about it.

Back downstairs, mom is still sitting up on the couch. Ben smiles.

She doesn’t look back. “Let’s go to your room. I don’t want your father to see.”

That’s a dilemma: _he_ wants Han to see, but her sweet smell in his bed is even more tempting. Ben licks his lips and stares at the back of her head and feels like he’s totally wasted on her. It’s pretty fucked. He cares less and less as the Alpha takes over.

“Okay,” he says. “Whatever you want, mama.”

Rey silently walks past him to the stairs. It drags on his brain and he can’t resist: he grabs her halfway up and pushes her down to her hands and knees, mounting her again. This time he gently bites the crook of her neck and just stays there.

She doesn’t move. He’s got plenty of room, so he fans a big hand on her belly, then up under her shirt, across warm skin to her chest. He bites when she jumps as he palms her tit. Her nipple pokes into his hand and he groans and massages gently. Nice. Fucking hot.

There’s more he can do. He’s fingered girls and humped girls until he comes, and sometimes Erin does. Mom should feel good, too. Not here on the stairs—it’s already hurting his knees.

Ben lets her up and she cries more on her way up to the second floor. He knows she’s having a hard time, but she’ll come around like he is. It’s already easier to corral the weird, tangential thoughts, and focus his urges directly on _her_. She’ll get it.

Mom hesitates before she opens the bedroom door. It’s kind of a mess. He needs to clean it up for her; wash the sheets and clear out the closet so she can make a spot for the babies. That part is up to her. He just does the fucking and feeding.

She walks to the edge of the bed, hesitating. Ben mounts her again, getting used to the motion and the expectation that she’ll obey. He pushes down until she bends at the waist and bites the crook of her neck again. Just so she knows who’s in charge.

He lets go when he’s satisfied and mom crawls into his bed, under the covers. Ben pulls off his shirt and turns on the TV to some old movie. It’s just them and a quiet movie and a warm bed, just like it used to be, no distractions to come between them.

“You want anything?” He joins her in the bed, slipping closer, drawing her back to his chest. “Want some water? Anything?”

Mom shakes her head once. Ben shuffles to fit his crotch against her ass again and buries his face in her neck. His eyelids grow heavy as he watches the movie and wraps his arms around mama’s middle. She used to hug him close, but now he’s big enough to hug her.

He sighs, satiated. This is good. He’s settled. A hand drifts lazily up and paws down her pajama top to grope a breast. Mom shifts a little.

“I can make you feel good,” Ben whispers, jumping on the opportunity. He sets his second hand on her hip and swallows a nervous lump. “Want me to?”

“No.”

Ugh. Fine.

His hand slips around her waist again to hold her close. His eyes flutter and shut, and he falls asleep loosely cupping her breast, curled around her. Mom leans back into his chest, finally relaxing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chaotic incest sex where ben looks han directly in the eyes while he bangs rey, a.k.a. the greatest thing these two hands have ever written

Ben’s eyes snap open.

 _Han_.

He snarls and hauls ass out of bed at the scent of dad, angrily realizing mom isn’t next to him anymore. His head spins but it doesn’t stop him from throwing open the bedroom door, staggering into the hallway. Where the fuck is she—where is she—where is she—

“Mom?” he calls, bleating at first, kind of scared she’s gone. Rage flares. “Mom— _MOM_!”

The bedroom door at the other side of the hall opens. There’s a quick scent of Han again but he’s just passed through. He’s gone. It puts Ben at ease. Good. Good. No one else should be here. Just mama.

Mom is in the doorway wearing an old college T-shirt. She yawns and blinks and rubs her eyes, then stiffens when Ben starts toward her. Her cheeks are red from crying and he panics. Was it dad?

She backpedals. “Ben—baby—”

“Why did you leave?!” he snaps. He grabs her arm and yanks her toward him. “Was dad here? What did he want?” Ben looks around the bedroom and takes a weird breath through his mouth. It tastes like mom for the most part. “Why’d you leave?”

“Your dad came by earlier to get some things. Relax, honey. You’re hurting me.”

Oh. He’s holding her arm so tight his knuckles are white and he quickly lets go. He clenches his jaw and looks around again, then can’t resist taking her forearm back. If she’s going to run away—which she shouldn’t do right now when she’s vulnerable and someone _else_ could fuck her.

Ben huffs. “Well, you should stay in bed. It’s better that way.”

Mom swallows and nods. He nods, itching his neck, twisting around because he feels like something is missing. They’re out in the open. They need someplace dark and quiet where they won’t be bothered by anyone.

His thoughts run a mile a minute, so fast that he can’t even keep up. Ben pulls her down the hall back to his bedroom, over to his closet, and throws the door open. It’s full of random shit, like an old jersey and cleats and weed he’s been hiding.

But it’s tight and dark.

“Ben.”

He looks back. Mom is all teary again. She licks her lips and tries to get a hold of herself.

“Let’s go see the doctor,” she suggests softly. “You need things I can’t give you. I know it’s confusing—and it’s just going to keep upsetting you.”

It does feel like there’s a big chunk missing from the picture. She’s supposed to do this part. She should find a spot and make it warm and soft, so why is she making him do it instead?

Ben rubs his forehead, shuddering. “It hurts so bad. I’m so fucking dizzy.”

“I know.” Mom touches his hand grasping her forearm and smiles weakly. “I know it’s hard to think straight. You can go see the doctor and you’ll feel better—then we can come home and watch all the movies you want.”

He breathes harder. It hurts again: something screams at him to ignore her and something else knows she’s right. They rip and tear each other apart and his urges fall somewhere in between; somewhere deep and dark and somewhere hungry.

It would be nice to watch movies together again. No Han around. That’s all Ben wants.

“That’s all I want,” he croaks. His lower lip trembles. “I love you. I love you a lot.”

“I know. I love you too, but I can’t help you.”

“Why not?”

Mom shakes her head, rolling her lip through her teeth. She’s going to cry, too.

“I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

For a minute Ben is overcome with grief and remorse, and has a small flicker of rationality in the fog of rut. He lets go and stares down at his mother’s exhausted, scared expression. Maybe this isn’t right. She should be excited.

Mom touches his bicep. She smiles a little but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’ll go with you, baby. I won’t leave until you feel better.”

“Promise?” Ben blurts, shaking, crying now. He sniffles and hugs her again, wishing he could fit in her arms like he used to. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

It’s hard, but Ben drags himself away from the closet. He’s sweaty and anxious as fuck and the clothes she dresses him in scratch his skin. Mom keeps her voice down and reaches up to cup his cheeks while he cries. Her warm hands wipe away the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles. Her fingers comb through his hair, parting it the way she did when he first started growing it out. “I wish I could help.”

He sniffles again—then leans down and kisses her.

Mom jerks back but Ben follows, more insistent this time, raging with something he doesn’t understand. He tries to be gentle. He cups her cheeks in his hands and her fingers settle on his wrists, tugging, then it slows as his tongue slips in her mouth.

She shivers. She kisses him back and blood pounds in his ears; she’s hesitant but giving in, and he wants her to want him. It’s mom and she’s always been so warm and he’s always wanted to know how she tastes.

She shakes her head, breaking the kiss. Ben kisses the corner of her mouth and down her jaw.

“We—We should go,” mom whispers. She grabs the front of his shirt and tilts her neck, though. “We both need to go.”

He doesn’t give a shit. Her kissing him back lights a new fire and he kisses her again, harder than before, making them both stumble back towards his bed. Mom fists his shirt and bows when he wraps an arm around her waist, pressing her soft body to his.

It’s easy enough lifting her up under her butt so he can crawl into bed with her. He drops her to the mattress and draws the sheets over them, then he’s kissing her again, hungry and curious. His big body fits right between her thighs and he jerks forward, hips already thrusting, desperate.

Mom tangles her fingers in his hair and cups the back of his head. He nibbles down her neck and hides his face there, the same way he did when she used to be able to pick him up. He hides and grabs at the pillows to make sure her head is supported.

She swallows. Loud.

“Should we watch a movie?” she whispers. She squirms, shuddering. “Let’s watch a movie.”

Ben grunts. He’d rather keep humping her but it _would_ be nice to watch a movie.

He rolls off her to find the remote. Mom closes her eyes and opens again and smiles when he comes back to her. It’s some horror movie. She always comes closer to him when she’s scared.

Some of the anxiety abates as she opens an arm to let him curl up beside her. Good. He scrambles as close as he can, breathing on her neck, humping her leg like the horny dog he is. She curls her arm up so she can stroke his hair. She’s trembling.

“Mama,” he mumbles. He licks her neck and whimpers. “Mama?”

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

Rey turns to her side, hesitant again. She sets a hand on Ben’s hip and he eagerly pushes down his shorts for her, struggling closer, whimpering. Please, please, please.

Mom brushes his cock and he pushes it into her palm. He groans, bucking and blindly kissing down her neck to her chest, then he’s yanking on the collar of her shirt so hard that it tears open. Her fingers curl around her length and she takes a sharp breath as his wet lips find her nipple.

Nails lightly press into his scalp. Ben thrusts into her grasp and sucks, tongue drawing across the stiff tip; it’s some kind of reflex that bounces back. His head stops spinning. This feels much better. Mom is holding him closer, hugging him while he rhythmically sucks, so he knows it feels good.

He pushes his hand up her ribs and her shirt to the other tit, grasping and pawing. He’s gonna come. Precum is already dribbling from the tip onto mom’s fingers and she’s brushing her thumb across it to lube up her palm. She kisses his hair and murmurs when he whimpers, lapping at her nipple.

“Mama—” Ben’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.” He nudges under her chin, panting. “Do you want me to?”

She nods but doesn’t say anything. His bed creaks as he leans closer, shifting his hips over her hand, thrusting and sucking her nipple again. Mom strokes from root to tip and lingers near the base where his knot is already swelling. She rubs it, and draws her nails along his scalp, and Ben shivers.

He’s coming before he realizes it, pent-up enough that he manages to release on her shorts before the orgasm starts. It runs up from his tailbone, rhythmic, intense enough that he feels his balls contracting and the cum throbbing through his shaft. His eyes roll back. He’s coming and coming and mom keeps her fingers curled tightly around the knot as it swells and locks behind them.

It feels fucking amazing. Her grip is tight and he can keep thrusting a little into it, now all slick from his cum running down his cock. He kisses her throat and mom gently, but firmly presses the back of his head until his mouth is on her nipple again.

The room gets quiet, just broken by him panting and desperately pumping his hips. Ben’s teeth graze her nipple and mom gives a sharp yank on his hair.

“Sorry—sorry.” He kisses across her chest to the other nipple, resting a hand on her hip. “I’m gonna come again. Sorry. It’s usually not… not this fast. And I can’t usually more than—more than once.”

Bullshit, it’s always this fast.

She laughs a little. “Yeah? Are you sure?”

“…No.”

Mom laughs again and settles into her spot next to him. Ben nuzzles into her chest, eyes closed, and he’s relaxed for the first time in a couple days. His head isn’t spinning and it doesn’t hurt any more.

“…Does it feel good?” mom whispers.

“Fuck yes.” He nods and groans, hips twitching as he resists coming again, trying to make it last. “The bottom part—that—that feels so good.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She kisses his hair, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to wait, Ben. You can come again. I’m just teasing you.”

“You… you want me to? D’you want me to?”

Mom pauses. Her heart races under his ear.

“Yes. Come for me, baby.”

Ben huffs and rolls over on top of her. He braces his hands on either side of her head and looks down to watch himself come, and the way mom’s hand grips him. He groans, spilling on her bare stomach as she slowly works her palm along nice and tight. Feels so fucking good—feels so fucking good—

“Feels so fucking good,” he grunts. He kisses her forehead and keeps thrusting when he’s done coming, dizzy, still hungry. “You smell so nice. I want to make you feel good.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Ben paws at her shorts, kissing her hard on the mouth again. He has to get closer—crawl back up inside her warm body like he’s wanted to since he was little.

Mom grabs his shoulders, breathless. “Ben—Ben, honey—” Her voice cracks. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry—I don’t want you to think you have to do this.”

Why would he think that?

“I love you, mama. I want to.” He gets her shorts down past her knees, kissing her again. “I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

She cries, burying her face in his neck. It’s kind of hard to keep a boner and he pauses for a second. All the pumping blood and violent urges fade. She’s upset. He doesn’t want her to be upset.

Then her lips are at her ear and she’s talking so low he can barely hear. Ben frowns.

“I want to, too,” she whispers. She squeezes his shoulders and shudders. “And I know I’m going to hurt you.”

No way. No way.

Ben touches her belly sticky with his cum as he struggles closer, awkwardly pushing his cock between her legs. Mom’s trembling thighs widen and he pants in her ear, fumbling closer, unsure of what to do but too horny to stop rubbing against her.

She reaches down with her hand, also tacky from cum, and strokes his hair. Her fingers curl around him and her nails brush his scalp.

“Shh… it’s okay, honey.” Mom kisses his cheek and he chokes as she guides the head of his cock into wet heat. Holy shit. “There you go.”

Ben roughly thrusts but she holds him firm so he can’t plunge right into her. He whines, frustrated, and keeps driving forward until she lets go. Her hand grabs his hip instead and she hisses as he frantically fucks into her. It’s so hot and wet and soft—

“Ben—Jesus!”

He doesn’t slow down or apologize. It’s fucking _tight_. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt; way better than humping Erin in the car or her jerking him off. He huffs and barely notices mom squirming and swearing as he jerks her up toward the headboard, cursing to himself, too. Don’t come don’t come don’t come.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he grunts. He leans back, chest arching over her belly, watching his dick plunging in and out of her. Mom’s skin is flushed pink and her jaw is clenched but she’s moaning. “How do I—how do I do it—for you?” His eyes roll. “I’m gonna come.”

“Just make sure you pull out. You don’t have to worry about me.” Her eyes widen and close again. “ _Jesus_ , Ben—baby, need to relax. I’m not a Omega.”

He feels like he can’t. Her muscles are so tight it hurts a little and it needs more lube but he can’t stop.

Ben shudders, hips slapping into hers. Mom rolls with his movements and he tries pushing in further but there’s not enough room for the knot. She’s not opening up. She should be. He has to be all the way inside her so it takes and he can get her pregnant.

He pushes a hand on her stomach to keep her in place and clenches his jaw, pushing _hard._

Mom arches, tits bouncing, and snaps. “Son of a _bitch_! Ben—Ben, you have to pull out—”

It’s way too late for that. He plants his hand next to her head, the other on his headboard, already coming and swelling inside her. Mom winces and shakes her head fast, pushing on his hips as he jerks through his climax. He can _feel_ everything; all the pulses of his cock and he fucking loves the sensation of stuffing her full of him and making her take it.

Ben shivers, closing his eyes and panting as his orgasm tapers off. Mom is breathing hard, gulping for air with tears in her eyes, and he brushes his hand down from her throat to her lower belly where she’s joined with him. Fucking hot.

“You were—you were supposed to pull out,” she blubbers. Her long legs quiver around his hips and she cries. “You were… you were...”

“I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. I’m sorry.”

He’s not. Mom winces and struggles on his knot and he licks his lips and watches her instead of lying down like he wants to. He’s tired but her writhing around is turning him on again. She’s full of cum and the knot is so tight that none of it is leaking out.

He swallows. “Can you come? I want you to.”

“You weren’t supposed to…” She sobs, body shifting from his gentle thrusting. “Oh my god, I’m going to be _sick_. This is so… this is so fucked up.”

“No, mama. I love you.”

It’s like he can’t stop coming; like there’s no drowsy refractory period. She’s just a vessel and he won’t stop until he’s too exhausted to move. She’ll look so pretty when she’s pregnant.

Mom stops crying after a while and starts moaning instead, pawing at his stomach. Her hand slips down and Ben watches her rubbing, eyes fluttering shut, so he gently rocks inside her. She whimpers. Her muscles tighten and twist around him and he groans. She’s going to come—she’s going to come.

He leans down on his forearm, kissing her, taking in all her moans and gasps. Mom grabs his hips and Ben vaguely hears a sound somewhere in the house.

“Oh Ben… _Ben_.” She rests her forehead against his, breathing in time with him. Her fingers press into the way his hips roll. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Say my name more.”

Mom moves quicker, fucking herself on his knot now with really hot desperate squirming. Her muscles flutter inside.

“Ben,” she breathes. “Ben. I love you, baby.”

“You like my knot, right? You want me to come inside you more, right?”

“Yes… yes…”

Good. He nods and kisses her nose, watching the way her lips part and her small body twitches. Her eyebrows raise and she breathes out his name again, soft and sweet, and her body squeezes him.

The door opens.

Ben doesn’t give a shit. Mom’s finally coming and moaning his name, nails digging into his hips, and he’s fucking her hard. He puffs into her neck and then he’s spilling inside her, another orgasm unlike anything he’s ever felt, drawn out by her twitching muscles.

She heaves a hard breath. “Han… Han, I can explain.”

The terrible smell of dad snaps Ben back to reality. His head whips around and he snarls when he sees dad in the doorway, face white, hand on the handle.

Then he starts toward them.

Being tied to mom makes them both vulnerable and Ben knows he can’t move. He snarls again, flattening on top of her and curling his big body around as much as he can. This is why they needed somewhere to hide; so no one would interrupt or threaten them.

“Han— _stop_!” she snaps.

“I’m going to fucking kill this kid!”

Ben jerks back but it catches. Mom yelps in pain and he crouches forward again, hissing now, torn between kicking the shit out of Han and not hurting her.

Dad pauses. He’s red with anger now, fists clenched. Ben growls in his chest and doesn’t break eye contact.

“You have to go!” mom snaps again. “He’s going to fucking kill me if he moves!”

“I’m calling the cops!” Han takes another angry step closer and Ben bares his teeth. “You little shit. Did you… did you _rape_ your own fucking mother?!”

It just pisses Ben off even more. He moves and mom groans in pain—but he’s got to snap dad’s neck.

“Just _go_ ,” she begs. “Just go away.”

Han takes out his phone and dials. He’s out the door shouting at someone and doesn’t bother shutting it. Fucking prick. Fucking Beta.

Ben kisses mom’s jaw, simpering a little. “I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It didn’t hurt,” she whispers in his ear. Her skinny arms wrap around his back under the covers and she kisses his shoulder. “You did such a good job, baby.”

“Did you feel it at the end? Did you feel it? We came at the same time.” Ben smiles, gently pressing his knot deeper. “He _saw_ us. I bet he heard you saying my name. I hope he did. Fucking prick.”

Mom runs her nails down his back. Ben shivers and tucks his head under her chin, ready for a nap. He’ll wake up later maybe and fuck her again from behind—mount her and pin her and stuff. He’s not even done yet. He might doze off still inside her, and maybe he’ll wake up that way.

Dad is pacing in the hallway, glaring into the room. Ben lazily watches. Mama is his.

He keeps his eyes on Han’s as he kisses down her throat and makes long, obvious movements with his hips. Mom’s legs move and she whispers for him to stop but he picks up on the light tone of it. She likes it. She wants to torment dad, too.

“Cut it out!” Han shouts.

Mama closes her eyes, hands stretching down to squeeze Ben’s ass. It helps push him in deeper and he feels her getting all tight and trembly.

“Go _away_ , Han,” she breathes. She arches her hips and Ben lazily fucks her, dizzy from the display of dominance. “He’s not going to stop.”

“I’m supposed to just fucking sit here like an asshole while he…” Han grits his teeth and looks away. “He’s going to a fucking psych ward like that Poe kid, and _you’re_ going to fucking therapy. Did you let him do this? Did you just let him fuck you? You’re such a fucking whore, Rey—you were a whore at sixteen and fucked up my marriage, and you’re a whore now.”

Ben keeps glaring but his eyes are fluttering as he gets closer to coming. It’s fucking weird but satisfying as hell that dad can’t stop him from banging mom, and she likes it, and she’s going to come again. He hopes Han sees it every time he closes his eyes or goes to ‘visit’ Aunt Leia.

Rey kind of chirps, toes curling on Ben’s calves as she climaxes. He growls and thrusts and finally looks away from Han when he’s on the edge of coming, too.

It feels even more satisfying than before. Han slams the door shut as Ben makes a couple restrained thrusts to draw it out, then gives up and pounds his knot into her. Mom bounces a little and watches him through hooded eyes, lips all red and swollen.

This time he knows he’s spent. Ben purrs, long vibrations somewhere in his chest, turning on his side and nestling close to his mother. He yawns.

“Love you,” he mumbles.

“I love you, too.” Mom hesitates. “Can you… do you think you can…”

She wriggles up on the pillows so her chest is close to Ben’s face. He mouths sleepily at her nipple and she touches his hair and guides it to his lips. His mouth slips off and she laughs a little and brushes the stiff tip across the seam of his lips again.

“You weren’t good at it when you were a baby, either,” she teases. Mom clears her throat and strokes his cheek when he drowsily latches on. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to.”

Ben grunts. He presses the flat of his tongue against her nipple and keeps going while mom runs her fingers through his hair. She kisses his head and sighs, settling into the pillows. Good. She’s relaxed.

“I missed this,” she says. “Did you?”

He nods so fast that his mouth pops free again. It’s kind of deliberate. He likes when she cups his jaw and guides him back or feeds her nipple into his mouth. Mom just hums and does it like an old reflex. His head burns. This is fucked up.

Sometimes her muscles flutter around his cock as it slowly softens—but he gradually falls asleep inside her like he wanted to, mouth full of her nipple. Mom gently slips from his lips and he nuzzles against her chest, dozing off to her heart beating under his ear.

The door opens downstairs. Han’s shouting.

“Don’t go,” Ben slurs.

“I won’t.” She hugs him closer and sighs. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

Feet on the stairs. Ben stiffens but he’s about to pass out. Shit.

Mom cups his cheek. She’s trembling—there’s nothing he can do about it. He whimpers and she shushes him before she she whispers it back.

“Promise.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't enjoy forced male orgasms AT ALL

“He’s going to be fine. A couple days here until the hormones fade, and we’ll send him home with medication to keep them under control.”

Ben thinks he’s drowning. His head is underwater and he gulps for air, writhing in bed; a bed that isn’t his. His eyes roll back and he groans. Hands don’t move. Legs done move. He’s restrained, but there’s something on top of him, and he manages to lift his head enough to look down.

It’s under a sheet. This looks like a hospital room and there’s something under the white sheet that’s literally sucking his dick.

He breathes hard through his teeth, eyes trailing along a white tube attached to a machine under the bed. He’s sweating and exhausted and his ears ring. Holy shit. What the fuck is _happening_?

Ben licks his lips. “Mom? Mom?”

No one answers. He squeezes his eyes shut and jerks his wrists against the restraints as the thing gently massages his dick, coaxing him to come. He doesn’t fucking want to. What the fuck? What the fuck?!

“Mom?!” he calls, louder this time. Ben groans and tries not to roll his hips into the machine. His breath catches and he feels like he’s going to cry. “Mama—help me! Help— _help_!”

There’s pressure. The thing tightens and he realizes he must’ve already come because the knot is locked inside it. He panics and hyperventilates but can’t get out a scream before it forces him to come.

Ben groans, grabbing the bed rails and thrusting into the machine. All the cum is sucked away before it can run down his cock, and it feels unnatural and eerie. It’s not fucking right. He wants his mom. He wants to feel her underneath him and combing his hair.

He cries when the thing starts moving again. It’s wet and warm and should feel good but it’s humiliating being on his back, pinned there like an animal being milked. He’s drowsy and dizzy and mumbles for Rey while he’s gently stimulated into coming again.

The door rattles. “Let _go_ of me, Han! This is fucking awful—he’s your son!”

“He’s a fucking animal and he’s being treated like an animal. Maybe now he’ll think twice—”

Skin hits skin. Ben swallows down his dry throat and manages to glance at the door as it opens.

Mom comes in, followed by a nurse. Dad is groaning and bent over and falls to his knees. He smells less awful. Mom still smells nice.

The nurse grabs her arm. “Mrs. Solo—”

“I’m not married to that fuck.” Mom shoves the nurse off and walks around the side of the bed. She leans over and the machine beeps and stops. “This is pure fucking evil and I’m taking him home. Give me the medication and fuck off.”

“He’s still dangerous, ma’am. This is just to help him relax and take off the edge; just because there’s no Omega home to help him. Please be reasonable!”

Ben hiccups and winces when she throws back the sheet. Mom takes two seconds to open it and chucks the thing across the room, then quickly covers him back up to she can take off the restraints.

He’s nauseous. He doesn’t want his mother seeing his fucking dick or hearing him have an orgasm. What the fuck is happening? Where _is_ he?

She unlatches his ankles and wrists. Ben slowly turns over and curls into a ball to cry again but she yanks him over and pushes clothes in his arms. He doesn’t want to get up. He’s fucking mortified.

“I know,” she sighs. Mom pulls off the sheet and pulls his boxers on faster than he can. She follows with his shorts and buttons them, then goes for his shirt. “Come on, honey. You can come home and rest and I’ll make sure you get the medicine. It’s okay.”

“You can’t take him!” the nurse snaps. “He’s a public hazard until the machine finishes—”

Mom starts kicking the shit out of the machine under the bed. The nurse shouts again and a guy in a white lab coat comes in to yell at mom, but she shouts back at him while helping Ben into a button up. He shudders and gropes for her to get him out of bed.

“He’s _my_ fucking son!” mom hisses. “You can pry him from my cold dead hands!”

“Please, Miss Niima, be reasonable! He’s not ready to leave until the machine finishes cycling and the hormone levels come down!”

Ben staggers to his feet. Mom catches his chest and cups his face in her soft hands, frowning, fretting and brushing his sweaty hair out of his face. He’s so exhausted. He just wants to go home and sleep.

“Let’s go,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I promised I’d never leave you and I’m not leaving you here.”

“I wanna go home,” he slurs. “I wanna go home.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t know this place would be so fucking barbaric.”

Mom takes his hand, leading him around the bed. Ben shivers as he steps into his sneakers and she keeps arguing with the doctor and nurse. Dad is coming into join the argument. Ben’s skin prickles.

“He’s a fucking monster, Rey!” Dad shouts. “We can leave him here and throw away the fucking key for all I care!”

“I know just how much you don’t care, Han. You didn’t care for one hundredth of a second, _ever_ , from me giving birth on a bathroom floor to his fucking kindergarten graduation.”

“ _You_ forced him on _me_! I didn’t want a fucking kid!”

Mom lurches forward like she’s going to punch dad. She cocks her fist back and clenches her jaw, then flexes her hand and leans away.

She tugs Ben closer. “You can come get your shit whenever Leia lets you. I’m keeping the house. See yourself out of it.”

“I’m not leaving my own house!” Dad grabs mom’s forearm and tries yanking her closer. “You’re fucking demented—you’ve always been fucking—”

Rage flares up and Ben punches Han in the face like a reflex. The nurse gasps and jumps out of the way as dad collapses against the wall, spitting curses. Ben staggers and bares his teeth, flexing his hand for another punch. He knows he broke dad’s nose.

Mom takes the opportunity to lead Ben out of the room. She doesn’t pause, but turns back and snatches a bottle of pills from the doctor.

She pulls him along out the front door to the Altima and helps him into the passenger seat. Ben rubs his face with both hands and cries into them. He’s so tired and so confused. He just wants to go home.

Mom shuts her door. “Shh… it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” She hesitates, then pats his shoulder. “I won’t let you go back there. I thought they could help. I’m sorry.”

“I feel so fucking—fucking gross!” He rubs harder and screams like he wanted to. “What the fuck was that?! What the fuck is happening?!”

“Shh, shh. I know. I know.” Mom starts the car and squeezes his shoulder. “We can talk when we get home, we just have to get the hell away from this place. Shara didn’t tell me they do that _shit_. I can’t believe she’d let them strap down her son like a wild fucking animal.”

Shara—Poe’s mom. That means Poe went to the same place when he had his freak out, and they did the same thing, and that means Ben is an Alpha. Really an Alpha. He’s a fucking Alpha.

He’s inconsolable. He cries until he gets lightheaded, and he passes out whimpering.

• • •

When Ben wakes up again, it feels like he got hit by a truck. Picked up. Run over again.

But he’s in his own bed and there’s nothing sucking his dick. He blinks, clearer than he has been in days, even though his muscles ache.

He slowly sits up, wincing. No weird smells in the air, no burning under his skin; everything feels painfully normal. Feeling better doesn’t mean he can’t remember what’s been happening—like banging his own mother.

There’s a blue pill on the nightstand with a glass of water. Ben scratches his head and checks the orange bottle next to it: ALPHOTRIGINE, and it says to take it once a day. It’s got a controlled substance label.

He takes the pill.

Getting up is hard but he manages. His dick is fucking sore and in the bathroom he sees it’s back to normal, no knot, but chafed from the god awful machine at the hospital. Ben winces as he starts the shower. Got to wash it all off.

All the bigger muscles haven’t gone anywhere, which he’s not complaining about. He looks for a while in the mirror before dressing in pajamas. No way is he going out anywhere, or talking to anyone. Especially not Erin or Poe.

Jesus. Poor Poe.

Ben peeks out into the hallway. It’s the middle of the day and quiet but he hears a sitcom on downstairs. Mom’s home, for better or worse.

Thinking about _that_ is physically revolting and painful. He doesn’t want to. Most of it is vague sensation, anyway; not a lot of details. His brain filtered a lot out so he barely remembers fucking her in front of dad and lying there drooling all over her tits.

Ben pauses on the stairs, shuddering. Maybe that was a dream—nightmare. That would be a nightmare.

He shuffles through the house to the kitchen for more water, not quite ready for food. His hand trembles while he holds the glass under the dispenser and he guzzles it, then goes for another, and another.

“Ben?”

He whirls around. Shit.

Mom shrinks back through the kitchen doorframe, pink nails holding it. She smiles faintly. She’s in some baggy stuff and has her hair up in a greasy bun. Her eyes are dark and tired.

No weird smell. Thank fuck.

He must stare too long because she nods and waves her hands.

“I’ll go,” she says quickly. “Did you, uh… take that pill?”

“…Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s good! It’s supposed to help.”

She drums her nails on the wall. Ben swallows and has to look away up to the ceiling. This is pure torture. It’s like he’s getting his teeth ripped out.

Mom clears her throat. “Anyway, I’m going to be puttering outside if you need me. Shoveling, putting up lights. You’re going back to school in a week after the doctor checks your blood.”

Ben nods, still not looking in her general direction. Jesus Christ. He could puke. He loves her but he could puke. How’s he ever going to look her in the fucking eyes again after… _ugh_.

She turns to leave. It makes his chest hurt because she’s obviously just as upset as he is. He rolls his lips and stares at the back of her head.

“Mom?” he bleats.

She turns, eyebrows raised. She can look him in the eyes somehow. Maybe because she has to.

Ben shrugs and averts to the ceiling. “You had me on a bathroom floor?”

“…Yes. I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

“Really? I must’ve been like… a twenty pound baby.”

Mom laughs a little. His gaze flickers down and he smiles but lets his eyes travel away again. The longer he meets her eyes the more he remembers, from pinning her on the stairs to her voice moaning his name to her hand helping him inside her.

“No, you were only a couple pounds,” she says. “You decided to come early.”

She stops like she’s thinking hard and Ben risks a peek. She’s trying not to cry. Shit.

“Sorry,” he blurts. “I just didn’t know that.” His thoughts race, trying to fix it. “Uh—dad wasn’t there, was he?”

“No. Just you and me.”

“Oh. Cool. Sorry I was in a rush.”

Mom laughs again and shakes her head. She wipes her eyes and rolls them as she turns away. Good. She always does that when he’s being a shit.

“You’ve always been in a rush,” she calls. “You grew six inches one year, y’know—shot up like a fucking bean stalk. Had to keep buying clothes and donating them a month later.”

“ _But_ you got to waste dad’s money, so he couldn’t use it on Aunt Leia.”

It comes out and feels fucking stupid the second it does. Ben swears under his breath as mom pauses and turns. Shit shit shit. 

“You’re right,” she muses. She points to him and smiles. “Silver linings.”

He exhales and watches her go upstairs. Dad’s a shit. Aunt Leia is a shit, too. They better not show up to the house again and make mom cry.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> donezo

The pills have Ben feeling back to normal in a couple days—about as normal as he _can_ feel. No one knows what happened, which is a relief, and Erin sends him frantic texts, and Poe asks where he’s been.

It’s gonna be awkward coming out as an Alpha. Mom and dad are Betas and it’s not supposed to be possible, but maybe he got it from Aunt Leia. She’s an enormous fucking bitch. Now she’s too busy with dad to come harass mom about dust and shit, which is another relief.

He hangs out in his room for the most part. Mom putters around and avoids him, too. He’s worried about making her uncomfortable and she’s worried about making him uncomfortable, so they kind of orbit around one another, two repelling magnets turned on their sides. Other side of the coin.

But it’s not like the memories just fade away. They come back in dreams and sometimes he wakes up in a panic at the memory of the hospital and that awful _thing_ on his dick. Sometimes he wakes up after a dream about the way mom smelled and her soft hands and how fucking good it all felt—

And he gives in and texts Poe.

> **Me:** _hey man._

Takes two seconds. Poe has been home for a while.

> **Damerdick:** _hey dude!! where the fuck have you been?_

Ben hesitates, staring at the message. Poe did the same thing, but he didn’t actually fuck his mom. If that gets out then Ben is royally fucked.

> **Me:** _turns out i’m an a. too_
> 
> **Damerdick:** _what????? are u fucking serious????_

Poe calls him a second later. Ben groans and rubs his eyes before he answers. Poe is such a douchebag but he’s the only one who gets it—the urges and hormones and wanting to bang your own mother. That should’ve gone away by now, right? Right?

Poe laughs. “Man, you’re kidding me! Seriously?!”

“Yeah. Probably why I beat the shit out of you the other day.” Ben scratches his head, flipping through shit on Netflix. “They sent me to that hospital.”

It’s quiet for a minute, but not that awkward quiet, just two people realizing they’ve got something awful in common. Ben swallows a lump and keeps flipping faster than before. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Poe might be reeling from it, too, especially if that put that fucking thing on him.

He laughs again. “Sucks, doesn’t it? You get the pills?”

“Yup. Pills, home with my mom. I’ll be back to school next week.”

“Sucks to be you, dude. I got like two weeks off for wanting to fuck my mom.”

Ben grinds his teeth. He shouldn’t say it. Poe might tell everybody. But if he does, he’ll just beat the everloving shit out of him again.

His throat tightens like he’s about to cry—because he _is_ about to cry, because he doesn’t want to want to fuck his mother. Ben rubs his chest and manages a shallow laugh. His eyes tear up. It’s like a switch flipped. It’s like he can’t go back from what he’s feeling now; like it all got dug out of a grave. He needs to know if it ever goes away.

“That ever stop?” Ben croaks. He clears his throat. “In case you come try to fuck my mom next.”

It’s quiet again. Ben can’t settle on a show and bounces his leg while he waits for Poe to answer. Come on. It’s gotta stop.

His voice is lower and Ben can tell he’s trying not to cry, too.

“No. Doesn’t stop.” Poe pauses and coughs. “I can smell when she’s… y’know, like I could smell it on your mom. I don’t know why—the doctor said it’s a soft-bonding thing and will go away when I’m older, but… said sometimes it’s permanent.”

“It’s fucking disgusting.”

“Yeah, dude. I’m sorry. The pills help, but the doctor said it’s not good in the long-term to suppress hormones. Gets us all pent-up and pissy after a while.”

“I’d rather be pissed off than—y’know.”

Poe grunts. “Same here.”

They lapse into silence for a while. Ben mumbles that he has to go and Poe hangs up just before he does. He tosses his phone across his bed, still scrolling around Netflix, then throws the remote across his bedroom. It shatters against the wall but does jack shit to make him feel better.

He rolls over and cries into his pillow. This fucking sucks.

———

Ben wanders from his room for dinner after a quick face wash to hide how red his eyes are from crying. He rubs his nose on his bicep as he opens the freezer and picks out a box of waffles because he’s too depressed to eat anything else. Made mom a fucking five course meal the other day when she was…

He shudders.

The kitchen is dark and he keeps it that way while he toasts the waffles. He’ll need like six to feel a little full. He droops over the island with his forehead on his crossed arms and stares at the countertop. What’s he supposed to do? Avoid mom for the rest of his life? She’s not even an Omega. He shouldn’t be having any response to her. What fucking gives?

The worst part is that he doesn’t even want to ignore her. He’s grossed out by how he feels, not her, and if she was okay with it… that’d be fine. He’s jonesing to check on her; waiting for a sign she feels the same way.

Ben shoves the first two waffles in his mouth while he cooks two more. His throat gets tight again and he groans, wiping off tears on his sleeve. Come on. He doesn’t want to feel this way. It’s fucked up. She’s his _mom_ and she doesn’t feel like that. She’s terrified. She’s avoiding him because she probably thinks he’s going to bend her over the arm of the couch.

His lower lip trembles and he leans on the island to text Poe. _I feel like a fucking predator. Like a rapist._

Alphas are always portrayed as these badass people who fuck whoever they want whenever they want and work in high rises and own Fortune 500 companies. It’s supposed to be cool. It’s supposed to be a big win in the genetic lottery to be an Alpha, and a big suck fest to be an Omega. That’s what everybody says.

But it’s shit. He’s thinking about horrible crap and trying not to be turned on by memories of groping and fucking his mom, but he can’t help it, and he wants to tie her up on his knot again. Erin is like a distant memory. The blonde hair and big tits are suddenly gross. He just wants to lie next to mom and feel her fingers in his hair and her nipple in his mouth—

Ben cries, just breaking down into embarrassing sobs. He wraps one around around his middle and covers his mouth with the other to hide the sound but he can’t stop crying. She should’ve left him on that machine. It would’ve been better than coming home and getting all these intrusive thoughts and waking up sticky from coming to the dreams of fucking his own mother.

He’s supposed to be fucking cool. Girls are supposed to flock to him and want him and he’s supposed to be a CEO and wear a power tie, but he’s eating waffles and crying like a little fucking bitch.

Poe texts back.

> **Damerdick:** _i know. me too. but you won’t hurt anybody, dude. it’s just part of the change._

Just wanting to throw mom down and fuck her from behind is as bad as doing it. Smelling her ovulating and getting this one-track thought process revolving around knocking her up is demented. Shoving a knot in her so she can’t get away and _liking_ that she can’t get away is so disgusting that Ben doesn’t think he can tolerate it anymore. She’s not even an Omega. He hurt her—he hurt her really bad and didn’t give a shit.

It flits through his head quick. He can make it stop. Dad has a pistol in a safe out in the garage. Better to put down a rabid animal before it has the chance to bite anybody.

“Ben.”

He doesn’t turn. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, because he can already smell her perfume.

Ben sniffles and leans forward to put his hands on either side of the toaster. Mom shuffles closer. He taps his fingers on the counter and shifts his jaw, grinding his teeth so he doesn’t start crying again.

She’s quiet for a minute. It’s defeaning. He taps faster.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She hangs back, probably scared shitless of him. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve stopped you.”

“You’re half my fucking size!” he snaps.

He pops out the waffles a little early and stuffs them in his mouth, quickly adding two more. Why’s she feel fucking bad? Stupid fucking bitch. Like she has a reason to feel bad.

Ben chews and tries molding his fear into anger instead. That’s easier to deal with. That’s more Alpha than be a crying little bitch.

Mom’s voice comes back all trembly. “You’re not a bad person, Ben. You didn’t do anything—”

“Shut UP!”

He smacks the toaster so hard it flies off the counter and smashes into the wall. He’s confused and upset and revolted, and just wants to go find the pistol so he can make it all stop. He didn’t do anything wrong—yeah fucking right. He remembers her sitting there crying and barely tolerating him putting his hands on her, and her begging him to pull out.

This isn’t fucking cool and it’s not fucking fun. This isn’t the life all the TV shows and movies promised. They didn’t say he’d rape his _mom_ and want to rape her again, or that he’d end up in a hospital chained to a bed while a machine sucked his cum out of him like it was draining pus from a zit.

Ben breaks down into tears. He can’t do this for the rest of his life. He can’t prey on girls and knot them like a dog fucking a cat hissing and screaming to get away. Mom isn’t even an Omega. What’s that like? What if he smells one and gets the same insane urges and shitty judgment and rapes someone else? It’s going to be the same shit when he’s older.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t already want to do.”

His crying stops. He thinks he didn’t hear her right.

But Ben turns and sees mom is crying too, and she shakes her head, not even trying to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks at the wall away from him and squeezes her eyes shut. She looks small again, circles under her eyes and baggy pajamas hiding her body.

Mom keeps talking while she cries. He stares at her and feels a sick sense of relief. She _wanted_ it. She wanted it.

“I could’ve stopped you,” she chokes, shaking her head, eyes still closed. “I could’ve stopped you a long time ago, and I knew—I knew from the day you shouted at me in that _voice_ —I knew what was happening.”

“You… you knew?”

She nods. “I knew, and I didn’t do anything, because—” Her breath catches and she sobs so hard she can’t talk for a minute. “Because… because I love you more than I should and I love you in the wrong way.”

It should probably make him throw up, or make him call dad and call the cops and run the fuck away. He doesn’t remember mom ever doing anything weird; no creepy touching or long staring or anything like that. She’s always given him space, sometimes too much space. She’d drift away.

Ben stares. He can’t make sense of it, but he’s relieved that he’s not a rapist. She wanted it. Then why did she act like she didn’t?

“How long?” he asks.

Mom still keeps her eyes down turned. She’s hugging herself.

“Not long. Maybe a year. Before I was just—really attached.” Her hazel eyes wander along the floor and she goes back to shaking her head. “Too attached. I was always too attached, but I wasn’t good to you when you were born, and I wanted to be good to you. I wanted to protect you from people like your dad.” She rolls her lips, closing her eyes. “Like me.”

“Dad?” Ben echoes. He gets a weird feeling in his chest. “What did dad do?”

They’re far apart in age and mom is only sixteen years older than Ben. Something fucked up went on but he figured it was okay. He wanted it to be okay and normal, even though he knows Aunt Leia resents mom.

Mom wipes her eyes, shivering. “Nothing. We were just together. I can’t say anything about your father to you.”

But he knows. A cold prickle goes down his spine.

“He… he went after you? You didn’t just—just decide…?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

Ben swallows hard. His dad preyed on his mom and she married him, and now she gets harassed by Aunt Leia and has to live knowing he’s cheating on her. And she’s not even a bad mom. She’s always been there for stupid shit, like soccer games and awards.

And dad never has.

Fuck. Ben rubs his chest and looks down at the floor. He’s just like his dad.

Mom wrings her hands. She’s not moving toward him, just standing in the middle of the kitchen like a little speck of light.

“I’m so sorry, Ben. I never meant to hurt you, I’m just selfish and shitty like I’ve always been. I was selfish when I was sixteen and I’m still selfish now.”

“Dad didn’t want me.” He clenches his jaw. “He forced me on you and didn’t even want me. He doesn’t want me now, and he says _you’re_ the one in the wrong.”

“He loves you.”

Bullshit.

Ben crosses his arms, struggling to sort through everything, relieved but maybe more upset than before. His dad raped his mom and she _married_ him, after she gave birth to him on a bathroom floor, and dad sat and blamed her for it. Sixteen like he is. He can’t imagine having a baby right now.

They don’t say anything. It seems like mom is letting him process and think and she doesn’t look at him at all. She shouldn’t feel so bad. She shouldn’t feel bad at all, because he feels the same way, and it’s longer than she has. It’s morphed from just being possessive and loving her touch into other shit, like pretending he’s not thinking of her when he’s jerking off or kissing Erin.

It’s been easy enough to push down because he knew she wouldn’t want him. But she does.

Ben covers his mouth. His stomach is twisting up in knots.

“So—last week—last week you wanted all that?”

“Yes. I cried because I wanted it and I knew I was taking advantage of you. I waited until you were vulnerable.”

“No,” he snaps, “stop saying that shit! Stop acting like you planned it and waited like dad did! I wanted it, too!”

“You’re sixteen, Ben. I took advantage of you.”

No— _No._ He’s not some fucking victim she needs to feel sorry for. He’s a predator and he bit right into her throat. Dad’s the rapist. Dad took advantage of mom when she was a teenager and never stopped torturing her, like it was her fault he was such a creepy disgusting fuck.

Mom hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s never done anything wrong. She gave him what he needed and wanted.

Ben pushes abruptly off the counter. All his screaming urges come blooming to the surface as he grabs her by the arm and kisses her, head spinning. Mom jerks back but he follows and kisses her again, wrapping an arm around her waist so she can’t escape. She wants him, too. Just fucking admit it so he won’t feel so disgusting.

She grabs his forearms as both come around her middle. He kisses her and tastes her minty mouth before she tries withdrawing, mumbling ‘stop,’ but now he knows she wants it and he needs her to want it.

Mom kisses him back. She’s hesitant, fingers barely touching his shirt. Ben groans and steps forward so she stumbles back toward the wall. His hands pushed up under her shirt across warm soft skin and pull her closer, and his thoughts start racing, and blood pumps.

It feels good to be wanted.

He hungrily kisses down her salty cheeks and neck and presses his fingertips in her skin as they roam further up. She wants him the same way he wants her. He can’t stop thinking about it. He’s not evil or disgusting—he read her right and he was right and she wants him.

Ben shoves her into the wall. He paws for her thigh and drags it up over his hip so he can grind his cock between her legs, sucking and biting at her neck. It’s warm. Mom takes a sharp breath like she’s stifling a moan but she fists his shirt, because she _wants it._ He can feel it in the way she rolls her hips in time with his and her panting and moaning.

No knot this time. It’s going to be regular sex.

He gropes along her inner thigh before grabbing the hem of her sweatpants, desperate to sink inside her again. He’s going to fuck her. As soon as he can find a way into her goddamn pants, he’s going to fuck her.

But it feels good just humping her and Ben comes before he realizes it. He swears, thrusting harder and coming in his pants and grunting into her neck. It’s not a lot. It’s frustrating and embarrassing but mom reaches her hand into his hair and doesn’t say anything. Good. She’s not mad.

His kisses get more frantic. “I can—I can do it again. Gimme a couple minutes.”

“You don’t have to,” mom interjects quickly. “It’s okay.” She kisses the side of his head, lowering her voice. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

Ben carries her out to the living room and they collapse over the arm of the couch in the dark. He kisses her, reaching back to pull off his shirt, and she helps and spreads her legs around his hips. There’s no room but he doesn’t give a shit. He props an arm on the back of the couch and paws at his pajama pants, afraid he’s dreaming or she’ll change her mind.

The couch creaks. Mom leans up a little to help tug his bottoms down to his knees before he’s back on top of her, desperately humping her like he might get lucky and push through her sweatpants. She huffs and squirms as he pulls on her pants and kisses her on the lips again, too sloppy, heart pounding. They pull together to get them past her knees.

Ben breathes hot quick pants on her neck as he rolls in, blindly pushing his dick and hoping it gets inside her. His hips twitch and he impatiently slips back to get a better angle. Why is this so fucking—impossible!

Mom reaches down like she did the last time. Her small fingers curl around his cock and he almost comes again as she guides him forward without saying a word. He whimpers when he feels the wet stickiness and tries his best not to drive into her but it’s _really_ hard.

Ben buries his face in her neck and curses as he piles inside her with a jerky thrust of his hips. She strokes his hair and doesn’t complain this time, just lying underneath him and letting him eagerly fuck her like a blow up doll. It’s so soft, and warm, and the friction is just right. His balls tighten and he grunts and his hand slips off the back of the couch. Holy _shit_ , he’s going to come again.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His hips slap into hers in a lewd porno type of way, echoing in the empty house. “I’m gonna come. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s overwhelming.”

He nods fast before he really does come. He stiffens with his hips flush against hers and chokes on a gasp, pushing in as deep as he can. Mom sighs in a relieved kind of way and kisses his temple while he twitches, beyond turned on at the sensation of his cock throbbing and filling her up.

It’s short again—not quite the strong one from last time they had sex. Ben swallows, trying to catch his breath as he goes straight back to thrusting. Come on. He has to maker her come, too, but soon he won’t be able to get it up.

“I can again,” he pants in her ear. He grabs the back of the couch and shifts his weight to pin her more on her side. “Feels so good. Can you come? I want you to come.”

“I—I shouldn’t.”

It’s easier fucking her now. Most of the tension is gone from the first two orgasms and the sensation of her cunt is more pleasurable and less overwhelming. He feels little pulses from her muscles, like she’s milking his cock, trying to bring him in deeper. Ben puffs and fucks her harder.

Mom slips a hand between them. She just breathes quicker at first but then she’s squirming and meeting his rough thrusts. Her pussy gets tighter, tugging on him because she wants him to fuck her and he’s not a monster. They’re all alone in the big house without Han or Leia to interrupt and it’s just what Ben’s always wanted.

“ _Oh_ —” Her fingers move faster. She’s rocking into him and her body is trembling. He wants to look but he’s too busy chasing his own climax. “Oh—don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks about baseball statistics, but it’s hard with her moaning and writhing underneath him. She doesn’t want him to stop so he keeps up the pace and the pace brings him closer and closer to coming, this time all tense and built-up like when he watches porn. Turns out practicing wasn’t any fucking help.

Then she gasps, pulling his hair and grabbing his ass, and the amazing sensation of her body quivering brings him over the edge. Ben thinks about fucking her in front of Han as he comes and it takes his breath, but he keeps fucking into his mom while she moans and bucks against him. It’s a good orgasm this time. He gets that satisfied haze as he finishes pumping the last of his cum inside her and finally goes still.

Ben heaves a heavy breath, arm slipping to his side. He nuzzles her jaw and slowly slumps some of his weight on top of her. Holy shit.

Mom groans, running her nails along his back. “Jesus.”

Cum leaks around where his cock is softening inside her. It’s gross but insanely hot at the same time, and he wishes he could get hard and keep fucking her and keep coming inside her.

Ben grunts. “Mmf. Night.”

“No—get up!” Mom slaps the small of his back and squirms. “We can’t be laying here like this! Your dad might come home!”

His tired eyes flutter open. _Han._

That’s enough to get him going again. Fucking Han. Ben hopes he sees the image of him knotting mom every time he closes his eyes.

He lazily rolls his hips, groping under her shirt for her tits. He’s soft but if he keeps going and thinking of how pissed off dad was, he’s sure he can get hard again. Then he’ll keep fucking mom right on the couch until dad comes home and sees them all sweaty and sticky and in love.

Mom groans. “Ben, come on.”

“What?” he grumbles. His thumb circles her nipple. Feels weird fucking her with a limp dick but it’s responding. “Not done.”

“You are—I can feel it.”

That sounds like a challenge, and the Alpha in Ben puffs up. He grabs the arm of the couch behind mom’s head and pounds into her with more purpose, shivering as he feels his cum lubing him up inside her. He’s not done. He’s done when he says he’s done.

He drags his nails up her thigh. “I’m done when I say I’m done.”

Mom doesn’t argue with that. She digs her nails into his ass again when he’s hard and fucking her roughly, wet slapping filling the room, and his eyelids droop and he practically drools. It feels so goddamn good. The sound of her whimpers and the smell of sex and the warm, wet, soft pussy he can bury his cock in and keep filling up with cum. Feels like he’s drunk.

This time she finishes before him and he holds off until she does again. It’s a proud moment—he feels like a man; like an Alpha. He growls and fucks her on the couch until he wants to be done fucking her, fighting his exhaustion to keep going and going while mom mumbles and lifts her hips. She’s fucking full of him and she _wants_ it.

Ben slouches beside her after a couple more rounds. It’s hard to keep his eyes open but he mumbles and shuffles down a little, settling in to her embrace, mouthing along her breast for her nipple. His cum is definitely staining the couch but who the fuck cares?

Mom shuffles so he can lie partly on top of her and she can wrap an arm under his head. She cups one of her boobs and guides it to his mouth, even though they both know he can do it himself. But he sighs and closes his eyes as she gently strokes his cheek while he rhythmically suckles. He’s always had a thing for chewing on pens and gum.

They’re quiet. Ben hardly notices her slip a hand between her legs, then he’s hyperaware of how her fingers rub it, then he fumbles to try it himself.

Mom hums, kissing his hair, stroking it gently. “Go to sleep, baby. We can try when you wake up.”

He grunts around her nipple but stops. She runs her fingers through his hair and he suckles and brushes her tongue along the stiff part the way she likes. Her hand moves and he hears her breaths quickening in her chest. Her thighs tighten around his wedged between her legs and he gives a halfhearted thrust against her thigh where his cock is soft.

She laughs a little. Her body is shifting and bumping his in weird ways and he’s vaguely aroused but too tired to act on it.

“Go to sleep,” she whispers again. “I love you, baby.”

Ben closes his eyes and slips off like he did the last time, and she patiently guides him back. His eyes flutter shut to the sound of his mother masturbating, and it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.


	11. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was demanded of me and i think u guys will regret it lmao
> 
> also let me explain my thought process:  
> • ben would be pretty emotionally stunted and traumatized and i think he’d never grow out of being a teenager  
> • hormones would keep building because he has no omega and won’t take the meds—or conversely, he did take them and had an untoward reaction that hasn’t stopped   
> • i used parallels from the phenomenon of lions killing their own cubs to bring the lioness back into heat again

There’s a baby crying somewhere, and Ben couldn’t give two shits.

It falls on deaf Alpha ears, mid-rut, more concerned with fucking and providing than coddling. He grunts and buries his face in the pillow at the sound of cooing and whispering over the baby monitor. Good. She should take care of the baby.

He’s fucking exhausted from working three twelve hour overnight shifts in a row, but it’s self-inflicted because he refuses to be the one staying home. It’s unnatural to him to hug and feed a baby. He’s supposed to be out to bring things home _for_ the baby—and fuck their mother.

Ben opens one eye to look at the bedroom door. Still hasn’t gotten around to that part yet.

The baby whimpers as he hauls himself out of bed. He’s sore but horny and irritated and he’s not sure he likes how his daughter takes all of mom’s attention.

He runs a hand through his long black hair as he pads down the short hallway to the nursery. Mom is singing to the baby, whatever the fuck its name is, and it makes him even more irritated. Knocking her up was hot, and fucking her while she was pregnant, but now she’s busy with the damn thing and doesn’t want to lay around in bed.

There’s a baby—he did what he was supposed to do—but he doesn’t want it in his house.

Ben nudges open the nursery door with his shoulder. Mom is sitting in the rocking chair, cradling the tiny thing in her arms while it feeds in this gross wet sounds. He grinds his teeth. It’s obscene. What’s she fucking doing?

“There’s formula for that,” he snaps.

Mom looks at him lazily. Her belly is swelling already from the next one, a boy, bound to be just as fucking infuriating as the girl.

“She’s hungry and it’s good for her.” Mom rolls her eyes and closes them. “Go back to sleep, Ben. I’ll be there in a couple minutes when she falls asleep.”

The baby makes snuffling sounds that push him over the edge. He knocks the door open and balls his fists. He’s hot all over and fucking horny and doesn’t like some stupid fucking baby hogging _his_ mom.

“Use the pump!”

“ _Ben_ , come on—”

He storms over to the closet and finds the damn thing up on a high shelf. They’re still in the same house, still paid for by Han and Leia, and all of Ben’s friends know he’s fucking his mom and getting her pregnant.

So ‘friends’ are in short supply.

Rey scowls when he hands her the pump. She swipes it and the baby whimpers, like the two second movement was a huge inconvenience.

Ben picks her up the way the doctor showed him at the hospital, when he was terrified to find he wanted nothing to do with any kids. Switch flipped. He was all over mom while she was pregnant and loved it then looked at the baby and felt sick.

He settles the baby over his shoulder, patting its back. Been about five years since he and mom started fucking. Now he’s twenty one and works construction because he refuses to let mom go work.

She sets up the pump. “It’s just feeding a baby. It’s not anything sexual or weird.”

Ben puts the baby, Luna, back in the crib as soon as she burps. He watches her for a minute. She looks like him, the poor thing.

“Yeah, well.” He tears his eyes away and swats the pump from her lap. “I don’t like it.”

Luna is young enough that Ben insists she doesn’t know they’re having sex. Really, he just likes having all his possessions in one room, dominate over them, fucking the pregnant mother of his children while one sleeps a couple feet away. It’s primal and unreasonable. That’s just how he is.

He drags mom to the floor. She huffs and grumbles but lets him bend her over and mount her from behind. Ben bites at her neck as he arches over her sloped back, hands pinning hers to the carpet, and his cock quickly pushes inside her. It’s all wet from the new baby and he curses and bites her shoulder.

Half the problem is his refusal to wear condoms—and birth control makes her smell bad. She’s supposed to get her tubes tied but he hates the thought of her not being fertile anymore. She’s thirty seven, so that time is creeping up bit by bit.

Mom moans, squirming against his crotch. Ben growls and fucks her harder, deep long thrusts that she likes, and she whimpers, hand wandering between her legs. Doesn’t matter. He’s going to knot her and she can get off as much as she wants while he sleeps.

“You’re mine,” he snaps. One hand leaves hers to cup possessively over her round belly. This one is going to be Sol. He doesn’t care. “ _Mine_.”

She nods along. Good.

Sometimes he’s not in rut but those days are few and far between. The construction keeps him preoccupied but it’s harder when he comes home and feels slighted by mom taking care of their baby.

Ben pounds into her until he’s breathless and pawing at her hips. He shivers and stiffens as the knot takes with a hot swell of blood, stretching mom like it always does, making her whimper. He swears, digging his fingers into her hips as he drives his cum deep inside her. _Shit_.

Mom shuffles with his as he rolls to his side. He curls his bigger body behind hers and listens to the soft sound of her masturbating. It’s nice. He can feel the little muscle twitches.

She wriggles around on his knot. Ben purrs and rolls his hips to help her along until she comes. Luna whines from the crib but he’s running his hand down mom’s swollen stomach and listening to the sweet sound of her having an orgasm.

It’s good. It always makes him come again, and they’ll be locked together for a long time setting each other off. It was fun after high school graduation, just laying there fooling around in his bedroom. Ben took the pills like he was supposed to and it backfired.

He kisses her hair when she settles down and groans. Her toes curl and the baby moves around under Ben’s hand, so he reaches up to play with a breast.

“Wanna give her to Uncle Luke?” he mumbles. He gently squeezes and milk runs down his fingers. “He said he’d take them.”

“You can’t just unload your kids like pet rabbits.”

That’s what they _seem_ like.

He shuffles closer, purring like he learned in therapy. It didn’t come naturally but it helps him relax and sometimes he does it at work, too. Alone. It’d make him look like a girl if he did it in front of people.

Mom shivers. “God, I’m so… backed up. It wasn’t like this when you were a baby.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Ben props up on one arm to grab the pump. He pulls it over and drops it in front of mom, swiftly drifting off to sleep. She fiddles around with it and he hears the weird sound that signals its working. It’s just like the thing in the hospital. He doesn’t know how she tolerates it.

But it works until the knot is gone and he can curl up in bed with her for the weekend. That’s what he looks forward to all week: lying there with mom’s arms around him while he nurses from her so the fucking baby can’t steal it.

He shifts his hips. “I’m off ‘til Tuesday. I’ll bring Luna over to your dad’s.”

“…Fine. Just make sure he knows she’s had a cough.”

“Yup.”

“And they put those tubes in her ears for the infections. I had to bring her _again_ last week.”

Ugh. He doesn’t want to talk about the fucking baby.

Ben gently hitches her thigh over his hip, giving him enough space to resume thrusting—slowly. Mom groans and he kisses her cheek and her neck, satisfied by the warm stickiness he’s already pumped inside her. Good. Another baby.

He teases her clit with his middle finger. It took a couple tries for him to figure it out but he did. Put his mouth on it too. That was wild.

“I can spend all weekend taking the edge off for you, mommy.” Ben’s chest vibrates with purrs, elated at the prospect of fooling around all weekend. “We can watch a movie, hang out in bed. Luke said he’ll take Luna as long as we want him to.”

Mom shakes her head. “He just…” She trembles, bumping against Ben’s finger. “He’s… he’s going to keep her. He won’t give her back.”

Who gives a shit? That’s where it’s headed, anyway. Custody battles and shit. Who _cares_?

His pinky drifts down, brushing the edge of his knot still buried inside her. Ben pushes his weight and gets mom on her hands and knees again, tugging his knot in the process and triggering a spontaneous orgasm.

He grunts and clutches her hips as it comes over him like a haze. It’s all instincts now, bending her over furniture and getting her on her hands and knees, especially with the baby in her. He likes the affirmation that he’s a man and an Alpha and he’s doing it right.

But he loves her—a lot. Too much, maybe. He’s not keen on sharing her with anyone, and resents people who try to take her away. It’s a mix when she’s pregnant but the hormones and pride win out. _He_ did that because _he_ is an Alpha male who has a woman that gets on her hands and knees for him.

The baby stirs as mom comes again. Neither of them can move until the knot fades, and sometimes that takes an hour or more. It’s been a problem a couple times and an awkward day when dad caught them fucking again. Walked right in. Saw Ben banging mom from behind.

That’s fine. He likes when people see, because then they know, unequivocally, who she belongs to.

He sags to his side again as mom pulls off the pump. They’re both panting and now the baby is crying, not loud, but definitely upset. She does it deliberately. Ben is sure of it—sure she’s trying to take their mom away from him.

A cold wave of fear comes over him. What if she leaves? He can’t let her leave. She loves him. She said so when they started having sex and said so when they got caught and went to therapy.

Ben nuzzles into her neck, whimpering. He’s still that insecure teenage boy who needs his mom. He’s stuck there. He went off the pills at eighteen, stopped therapy, and he’s been stuck in a cycle of neediness and fear and aggression to cover it all up.

Mom twists her arm back to touch his hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

A lot. Nothing he’s going to burden her with, because he’s the one who bears the burdens now.

So he shrugs. “Nothin’. I just love you a lot.”

“I love you, too.”

Luna keeps crying but neither of them can do anything about it. Ben ignores it easily enough because he’s great at tuning out his annoying daughter, but mom seems stressed.

He gathers one swollen breast in his hand and massages gently. It’s going to leak all over but that’s fine. Just a waste.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, half asleep. Milk runs down his fingers. Mom groans. “Don’t worry… about it…”

“I don’t want dad to take her away,” mom whispers back. “What if he tries?”

“He won’t.”

He can. He’s been trying. It’s not hard to win a custody battle against a Beta woman fucking her Alpha son.

But that’s fine with Ben. He makes the babies and provides food and shelter and the rest is up to mom. He’ll keep knocking her up. She can figure out what to do with them and stuff; where to shuffle them off to when they get in the way.

And if they take her attention off him for more than five minutes, or deprive him of lying in bed drinking her milk and fucking her senseless—then they can all go to fucking hell. He’ll see them there.


End file.
